


Awakenings VI (in which Greg Lestrade shares his Pet with his Love...)

by sanguisuga



Series: Awakenings [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Cock Cages, Dom Greg, Fluff and Smut, Johnstrade, Johnstradecroft, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Multiple Partner Play, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Romance? Maybe for some..., Sub Mycroft, Switch John, collaring, holmescest, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-11 06:13:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3317174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguisuga/pseuds/sanguisuga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small-ish interlude wherein John finally gets to partake of what Mycroft had offered him as a birthday gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is something that I have been promising for a very long time, and at the point where I am in part 5, I find myself a bit stuck, but this has been hanging around for so very long that I'm damn near desperate to have the story finally be read. Hopefully it meets everyone's expectations, since I've been dangling it in front of all of my loyal readers for so long...

John reached out to take Greg's hand as they heard the click of the latch downstairs. Greg tugged him in closer and gave him a brief squeeze as Mycroft appeared in the doorway of the sitting room.

"Good evening, Gregory." His cool grey eyes skimmed over the two men clustered together on the sofa, lightening considerably as they rested on John, who was smiling broadly. Mycroft blushed heartily as he nodded at him. "John."

John returned the nod in greeting as Greg extracted himself and went to embrace his lover. Mycroft let out a soft sound as Greg kissed him, humming low. "Pet. Did you eat?"

Mycroft blinked rapidly, his lips twisting with a trace of high humour. "Indeed. Anthea and I shared a delightful supper not two hours ago." He tilted his head as Greg nodded in approval. "But then, I'm sure you knew that, since it was your suggestion that she bring in the meal in the first place."

John snickered from his seat on the sofa as Greg's face heated slightly. He reached out to tug gently on Mycroft's tie. "Sorry, pet. I worry, y'know - can't help it."

Mycroft chuckled as he pressed his lips to Greg's temple, winking at John over his head. "I don't mind, Gregory. Not at all. How could I? You're looking out for me."

"Yes, love." Greg's dark eyes sparkled as he took a step back, squeezing Mycroft's upper arms. "So get on with you. I'll give you twenty minutes to get yourself settled, and then the fun can begin." He grinned sharply as a pleasant shudder ran through Mycroft's body.

"Oh, yes, Gregory." Without another word, he turned and headed straight up the stairs, pausing only to glance at his watch.

John chuckled slightly as Greg started to pace the sitting room floor. "Glad I don't have a minder like that poor lad."

Greg came to a halt, frowning at his lover in consternation. "Is it too much? Do you think I'm interfering?"

"No. Not in his case, anyway." John shook his head and leant back a little in his seat as Greg's frown deepened. "No. Honestly, I don't know how you do it, love. You somehow manage to give us all what we need."

Greg suddenly threw himself down flat on the sofa, resting his head on John's thigh as he sighed heavily. "What on earth are you talking about?"

John hummed and began to run his fingers through his lover's silver hair, smiling as Greg's breath caught at his touch. "Well, Sherlock prefers to be left to his own devices for the most part, so that's what you do. You do check in with him, though, often enough to make sure that he knows he can come to you at any time, for any little thing. But you don't smother him, either. As for me - I like knowing that you're thinking of me, so your goofy little texts throughout the day always make me smile." He tugged at Greg's hair playfully. "Even when it's just a dreadful joke. Your sense of humour can be quite appalling, my love."

"Oi, just 'cause you don't get it..."

"Shush." John bent down for a swift upside-down kiss. "Now, as for Mycroft - he also likes knowing that you're thinking of him, but he needs more. He needs to know that you actually  _want_  to take care of him, so making sure that he's eating, that he's sleeping properly - that confirms it for him. He doesn't like to make you worry, in fact, I'm sure he feels quite guilty about that, but he likes that you do anyway. Even though you try to be sneaky about it by going through Anthea..."

"Shit. Do you think she minds?"

"Who knows with that Amazon? I mean, it was her job well before you two became involved..."

Greg chewed on his lip briefly. "I should send her some flowers or something."

John snorted. "Maybe a nice set of throwing knives instead, eh?"

Greg huffed out a surprised chortle that swiftly dissolved into helpless giggles. He rolled on the sofa and pressed his face into John's belly until they died out and then sat up abruptly, scrubbing at his face vigorously. "C'mon..." He took John's hand and tugged him off the sofa before leading him toward the stairs to the attic room.  
   
John let out a startled squeak and scrabbled for the shoe box that had been sitting on the coffee table. "Love, hold up for a bit."  
   
Greg paused at the foot of the stairs. "Having second thoughts?"  
   
John levelled a look at him, and Greg could only grin. "After last week? Gregory. Don't be absurd."  
   
Greg blinked, and the grin widened. "You do know that you sometimes sound remarkably like a Holmes, my love."  
   
"We're all rubbing off on each other, I think."  
   
"In more ways than one..."  
   
John snorted and rolled his eyes at Greg's weak double entendre. "See - God, that was horrible." He shook his head. "No, I just wanted to touch base with you first."  
   
"If you have limits, that should be discussed with My present, don't you think?"  
   
"Not limits, no. Sherlock's the only one with restrictions in this situation. No, more like - expectations." Greg frowned, but turned and sat down on the stairs, giving his lover his full attention. John paused, clearly collecting his thoughts. "I know that the relationship between you and Mycroft is somewhat unique. But sometimes I don't know if you realise it in quite the same way." Greg's brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to speak, but John forestalled him with an upraised hand. "Just listen, love. Even though I was only involved in the BDSM scene for a relatively short amount of time, I saw enough to know that Mycroft is special. There are very few genuine, deep-seated subs out there. For a lot of people, this is just a fun thing that they do in the bedroom. Your dynamic runs much deeper."  
   
Greg blushed faintly, his eyes dropping to the floor at his feet. "I know how special he is, love."  
   
John smiled gently as he reached out to tip Greg's face back up to his. "But you don't understand how special you are to him. I know that you've forbidden him to call you 'Sir' or 'Master', and I understand why - the very idea that you could literally own him is abhorrent to you. But - you are his Dom, Greg. Even though he doesn't vocalise it out of respect to you, that's very much how he thinks of you. He has given himself to you completely, and whether or not you like to think of it that way - you do possess him, my love. He expects you to take the lead, especially in these kinds of situations. Now, I'm pretty sure he knows that you sometimes bottom for me, hell, he probably saw something like it when he was remotely perving on you before all of this. But that was before he suggested your arrangement, and having a vague idea about it and actually watching your Dom bend over for somebody else right in front of you are two entirely different things. I know you think I'm going to go all 'Captain Watson' in there, and I may, but only toward him. I will be deferring to you the majority of the time. I may even ask your permission for some things. You see, love - I will be above him, but absolutely nobody can be above  _you_. Not in his eyes."  
   
Greg blinked at him, his fingers anxiously tangling together. "But John, this is all for you. You know I'd happily go down on my knees or bend over for you or whatever else you want. However you want it, my love."  
   
John closed his eyes briefly as his body shuddered. "I know, Greg. And I'm always thrilled when you do those things for me. But the truth is, sweetheart, that I love nothing - nothing - more than having your wonderful cock buried in me so deep that I can feel the beat of your heart in my belly. In fact - if it were just you and me in there, that's exactly how I'd want it. I'm not saying that I won't fuck you - not if it's something you want and ask me for. I'm just saying that I'm not going to top you. Not this first time, anyway. Perhaps later, once we're all established a bit and he's had a chance to observe our dynamic and get comfortable with the idea. Otherwise, we'll just keep that between the two of us. The same should go for Sherlock, once that all works itself out."  
   
Greg quirked an eyebrow. "Do you think it will? Mycroft's been fairly adamant when they're both present that only watching is allowed."  
   
"Oh, it'll happen, Greg. Since Sherlock's been on his best behaviour and not so pushy all the time, I've seen some rather smouldering looks being cast at his backside from a certain older sibling." John smirked, a wicked light glinting in his eyes. "In fact, I may have an idea to help all that along..."  
   
Greg bit his lip and looked him up and down. "Oh, you dirty little thing." His voice was low and gravelly, and John visibly shivered at the sound of it.  
   
He clutched the shoe box to his middle and nodded up the stairs. "The longer you look at me like that, and good God the more you talk to me like that, the less fun your pet is going to have because I'll pop off the second he even breathes on my cock, for fuck's sake."  
   
Greg chuckled quietly before nodding at the shoe box. "Are you actually going to put anything in there to use, love?"  
   
John shrugged idly. "Thought it was better if I were prepared for that possibility. You know Army doctors, sweetheart. Prepared for anything." He grinned slowly and winked at his lover.  
   
It was Greg's turn to shiver, and he pulled himself back to his feet and once more led the way to the play room. He looked back and waited for John to take a breath and nod before knocking on the door, giving Mycroft a moment to collect himself before opening it. Greg smirked slightly to see that the Holmes propensity toward the dramatic was in full sway, as he was standing near the foot of the bed in full view of the doorway, elegantly draped in a black silk kimono-style robe. Greg shut the door firmly behind John as he stepped into the room and relieved him of the burden of his personal toy box, placing it on the desk. Mycroft's eyes followed the motion and widened slightly, a fetching shade of pink tinting his cheeks. Greg caught the tail-end of a sharp grin on John's face as he went to step behind him, placing his hands on his hips and pressing against his back.  
   
"The robe, pet."  
   
"Yes, Gregory." With a deft tug, the tie came loose and Mycroft shrugged the opulent fabric off of his shoulders, carelessly tossing it onto the desk chair.  
   
Greg hummed as John sagged against him slightly, a quiet moan pushing past his lips. "I told him to be ready for you, love. He prefers rope, of course, but I haven't the skill, unfortunately. Perhaps you'll be able to show me some day, when we aren't so restricted on time. In the meantime, I thought this might work for you..."  
   
"Oh, love..." John's eyes wandered the length of Mycroft's body, trying to take it all in at once and failing. He'd seen harnesses, yes, but nothing quite like this. It was obviously custom-made, since it fit that long body like a second skin. It was a variation on a basic y-harness, with straps on either side of Mycroft's neck coming down to meet at an o-ring at the middle of his sternum. At that same junction, there was another band wrapping around his torso, just under his nipples, and then a short vertical strap which attached to a waist band via another o-ring, this one neatly encircling Mycroft's navel. Yet another vertical strap attached the whole thing to the ring of the cock-cage that was locked around the base of Mycroft's prick.

John shivered as he fought back the urge to just stick his tongue in that navel ring and wriggle it around. There were matching cuffs, of course, wrists and ankles, but wide straps around his thighs and upper arms as well, and all had d-rings with little hooks, just shining in the light and begging for the chains that were neatly lined up over the desk. John took in a solid breath, gathering himself and stepping forward, his fingers reaching out to caress the emerald green leather under Mycroft's right nipple. "So soft. And quite a lovely colour for your complexion. Sherlock was quite right about that. Whoever crafted this for you is an artist."

Mycroft's body trembled uncontrollably as his grey eyes flickered up to John's face and then back down to the floor. "Yes, sir."

"Oh, no... There's only one Sir in this room, My. We both know that." John threw Greg a smug little smirk as Mycroft's eyes fluttered, a clear look of relief washing over his features. "John will be just fine for now."

"Thank you, John."  
   
John hummed vaguely and clasped his hands behind his back as he slowly prowled around Mycroft in a tight circle. On the second rotation, he stopped at his back and put a hand between his shoulder blades, applying just a bit of pressure. Mycroft obediently bent at the waist, and John hummed again, this time with a distinct tone of approval.  
   
"And what's this?"  
   
Greg grinned at the colour that spread over Mycroft's face. "Well, the harness is for you, love. But I also told him to be ready for me..."  
   
John tapped at the flat base of the metal plug and sighed at Mycroft's low moan. "I see. Too bad I won't be able to partake..."  
   
"Yet." Greg's low growl made John shiver, and he placed a hand on the small of Mycroft's back to support himself briefly.  
   
"Yes, love." He stroked Mycroft's skin idly. "Back up, My. Hands behind your back." Mycroft hastened to comply, and John simply hooked the rings on the cuffs to the back of the waist belt. "This'll do for now. We'll have some time to play with the pretty chains a bit later, yeah?" Mycroft flexed his hands briefly, and then just let them hang from the restraint. "Oh, yes. Down on your knees, please." John took his elbow to help him get settled, and then stepped back into the shelter of Greg's arms.  
   
They just stood there for a while, taking in the vision kneeling just a couple of steps away, Greg's pet outfitted in tight leather straps, his hands bound behind a back that was proudly straight, even as his head was bent in supplication. Mycroft was clearly fighting to keep his gaze on the floor at their feet, as his grey eyes continued to flicker up to look at them from underneath pale red lashes.  
   
John sighed softly and leant against Greg, tilting his head back on his shoulder. "Oh, love... He is exquisite."  
   
"And you doubted me in the beginning."  
   
"It wasn't doubt, not really. I was still getting used to the idea that the very embodiment of the British government was a die-hard subby, that's all. But I suppose it makes sense. He wields so much power in his everyday life that I imagine this is a bit of a relief for him."  
   
"That's how I've always seen it, yeah."  
   
"And so well-behaved..."  
   
"He's a very good pet. Neither of us gets off on punishment, so it works out quite well."  
   
John twisted in his arms and looked up at Greg with a sceptical expression. "No punishment at all?"  
   
Greg blushed slightly. "There have been only a few minor corrections necessary, although that creamy arse of his does sometimes just beg for a smack or two." He pressed a kiss to the top of John's head as he chuckled. "But then again - so does yours, my love."  
   
John cleared his throat against Mycroft's almost silent giggle and turned a stern look on him, but it was impossible to hold it, as Mycroft's grey eyes were sparkling with delight, and he was clearly so happy that he was fit to burst. John simply could not maintain any level of mock-anger, looking at that beautiful, glowing face, so he instead drew Greg down for a slow, deep kiss.  
   
"Thank you for sharing him, my love."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John helps Greg to realise something very important, and Mycroft reaps the benefits...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tra la! Big things are happening now...
> 
> (Please comment - keep me going!)
> 
> Kisses, my lovelies!

Greg acknowledged John's thanks with a little nod and a kiss before turning him bodily so that he was facing Mycroft. He began to undo the buttons of his shirt from behind, exposing all of his lover to Mycroft's eager, unblinking gaze. The man kneeling on the floor shook himself and looked down again, suddenly seeming to come over all shy and bashful. "Oh, pet. It's all right to look, you silly thing. It's not like you haven't seen it all before..."  
   
John nodded toward the desk as Mycroft seemed to relax a bit, looking back up as Greg slowly stripped his lover down. "This isn't the first time you've seen that shoe box, is it, My?"  
   
Mycroft flushed bright-red and bit his lip. "No, John."  
   
Both John and Greg chuckled at his abashed expression. "It's all right. I figured out what kind of man you were fairly quickly after that little kidnapping trick you pulled. I was pretty sure that someone was watching. I didn't know it was you, however. Thought you might have flunkies to do that sort of busywork for you."  
   
Mycroft sat up a bit straighter. "I wouldn't trust the security of Sherlock's home to just anyone, John. No - any of the surveillance that I had on him, on Baker Street, was all wired directly to my secure connection." He blushed again. "I was the only one watching." He blinked as Greg crouched to remove John's trousers and pants from his legs. "But then - if you knew..."  
   
"I obviously liked it, didn't I? I mean, come on, Mycroft. All of the touching and teasing and spreading myself open - it was a show, sweetheart. Generally, wanks for me are a quick and efficient affair, a throwback to my Army days, unfortunately. If you needed to get rid of some tension, you bloody well did it as fast as you could, because who knew what would happen in the next five minutes. I had to fight a bit of instinct to slow down like that, to take my time."  
   
Mycroft blinked at him languidly. "I appreciated your efforts very much, John."  
   
Greg snorted as John smiled indulgently. "Maybe I'll put on a show for you later, My. Up close and personal." Completely naked, he drifted toward the desk as Greg quickly stripped down. "So which one was your favourite? I imagine you saw me using just about all of them..."  
   
Mycroft cleared his throat. "Ah. It was - um, well, rather large and - um..." John laughed brightly and pulled out the black dildo, watching with a broad grin as Mycroft swallowed and bit his lip before nodding emphatically. "Yes. That one."  
   
"Why?"  
   
"It - well. You took more time with it, um  - and when you came, which was spectacular, by the way, um - when you came, you called out his name."  
   
John's eyebrows quirked. "I thought the audio was only added when you did your little renovations in here."  
   
"No, there was no microphone installed originally." Mycroft's blush deepened. "I - I read lips. Sometimes."  
   
"So the first time you saw me use this particular toy, was the first time you realised that you and I had something in common. That we both wanted Greg."  
   
Mycroft looked down again, his voice a mere whisper. "Yes, John."    
   
John put the toy back and knelt in front of Mycroft, placing his hands on his face and bringing it up so he was forced to look him in the eye. John's expression was gentle as he ran his thumbs along Mycroft's cheekbones. "Poor lost little pet." He placed a light kiss on Mycroft's trembling lips. "So lost for so long, poor thing..." Mycroft sighed and put his head on John's shoulder, his eyes closing in bliss as small strong fingers worked through his soft red hair in a repeating pattern. "Oh, what a sweetie." He giggled slightly as Mycroft pressed closer and hummed quietly. "All ready to roll over for me, aren't you? So eager to please, just like a proper pet should be."  
   
Mycroft nuzzled into John's neck, rubbing his head against his jawline. "Yes, John."  
   
John glanced over to Greg, where he was leaning up against the bed, half-sitting, half-reclining. "Of course, a proper pet would be collared, wouldn't he?"  
   
Greg stood with a jerk as Mycroft pulled away and hung his head. "I haven't offered." His voice was hushed and rather miserable.  
   
John sat back on his heels, running a finger along Mycroft's clavicle. "Not because you don't want it, though. You do, I can tell."  
   
"Gregory doesn't like the idea. And besides, John..." Mycroft hesitated, glancing up at Greg as he paced the length of the bed, nearly prowling beside them restlessly. "I've never been collared. Not even in play."  
   
"Because you haven't wanted to devote yourself to anyone before - not to that extent, anyway. But the look in your eyes when you see Greg, My... Oh, love, that's devotion. You want to offer, I know you do."  
   
Greg stepped behind Mycroft with a low growl and put a hand to the marks on his neck. "Isn't this enough? I mean - Christ - I've practically  _branded_  him. Permanently. This isn't something that can be unlocked and tossed aside, and it isn't something that can be seen easily." Greg almost scoffed, his voice rising angrily. "Can you imagine, John - imagine if he's in a situation where some mucky-mucks in his organisation or even from some other country - just imagine if they happen to catch sight of leather or a chain around his neck. What would that do to his credibility, to his career?" John coloured slightly, and looked down at the floor. Greg felt his anger start to melt away as Mycroft tilted his head, pushing his neck against his lover's fingers with a hum of pleasure. "A collar is just a symbol, it's only as good as the intention behind it. Mycroft will wear my ring, and that is a symbol that he can wear openly and with pride."

John cleared his throat slightly and reached out for Greg's hand, kissing his fingertips and smiling at Mycroft's quiet gasp. "I am sorry, love. You've obviously thought about this, and I wasn't even considering the potential impact on Mycroft's career. I was out of line to bring it up at all, really. He is _your_ pet, after all."

Greg tilted his head and smiled crookedly, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I do value your opinion, John, especially since you have experience that I don't. But yes, he is mine, and any decisions regarding him will be mine to make."

"Of course, my love." John's expression was guileless, and Greg had the sudden sensation that he was being played. Not that he hadn't unconsciously picked up on Mycroft's desires, especially after last week, when Red had offered himself over to the Wolf without any reservations. There had been something else there, something hopeful and needy shining in Mycroft's eyes, but Greg had chosen to ignore it in that moment. He had known then that there would be time to explore that sort of thing later, when he wasn't wearing a ridiculous set of ears and sporting a silly fluffy tail. He sighed quietly. No time like the present, he supposed...

Greg frowned slightly before bending to place a kiss on the top of Mycroft's head, caressing his shoulders gently. "Now, pet... I've told you before that you can speak freely, yes? So you know that if there's something you want, all you have to do is ask. Of course I can't promise that you'll get everything you ask for, but I'm sure you know that I'm pretty much a pushover anyway..."

Mycroft twisted his head to look up at him in surprise. "But you don't want to."

Greg pursed his lips and gave a tiny shake of his head. "No, not as a lifestyle thing, I don't. Not 24/7. But when you're here, when you're with me - maybe. If it's something that you would get pleasure from, then I'm more than willing to try." He grinned disarmingly as Mycroft's cheeks flooded with colour, his mouth dropping open and eyes going almost ludicrously wide in astonishment. Greg chuckled quietly before growling low. "Who knows - I might even find that I like it."

Mycroft blinked up at him as he squirmed under his lover's heated gaze. "I - in the toy box, Gregory. This ensemble came with one, of course."

Greg almost laughed as he turned toward the small trunk situated at the foot of the bed. "Oh, of course." Greg returned holding the collar in his left hand and a short lead in the right. John quickly stood and grinned at him brightly as he stepped back, not going far as Greg pulled him in by the back of the neck for a fierce kiss. "Clever little bastard..." It wasn't difficult for him to ascertain that John was subtly manipulating the situation, establishing a place within the dynamic that existed between Mycroft and himself.

First, challenging him about leaving his pet uncollared, but quickly conceding to Greg's authority where said pet was concerned. And in the process, John had managed to get something significant for Mycroft that he knew he wanted but was too timid to ask for, thus securing a sense of solidarity between the two of them. Although if Greg had worked it out, it was more than fair to say that Mycroft had as well, but he didn't seem to be complaining about John's little game. In fact, quite the opposite, as his grey eyes were shining with delight and his body quivering with heady anticipation.

Greg briefly wondered if he was biting off more than he could chew here. With the two of them playing off of each other, he would most likely end up giving both of them whatever they wanted. He almost snorted with derision.  _Yeah, Dom indeed. I'm utterly powerless, for fuck's sake._ However, looking between John standing by the bed, and Mycroft kneeling in front of the wardrobe, Greg quickly realised that he wouldn't want it any other way. Besides, whatever little games they played with or against each other, it wasn't like he would be missing out. Oh, no - he would get what he wanted as well. All of that and more, apparently.

He toyed with the lead momentarily, watching Mycroft's face as his eyes got bigger and darker by the second, finally tossing it aside on top of the desk. "I think we'll save that bit for when we're on our own, yeah?" Mycroft bit his lip and nodded, his eyes now fixed on the green leather collar. "Nobody has ever done this for you before?"

Mycroft shook his head mutely before finding his voice, albeit a rather timid one. "No, Gregory. There has been no-one that I trusted to this degree. You are the only one." His eyes were soft with emotion as Greg bent over him, and Mycroft leant in to his ear, his warm sweet breath washing over his lover's skin. "I've been waiting for you, all this time."

"Oh, pet." Greg ran the soft leather of the collar through his fingers and then placed it around Mycroft's long, elegant neck. He buckled it securely at the back, slipping a couple of fingers in between the leather and Mycroft's skin, making sure it wasn't too tight. He shuddered at Mycroft's low moan and kissed the top of his head before stepping back to take in the view.

Mycroft rolled his head and stretched his neck, apparently feeling out the fit of the collar. He shivered, a little tremor that seemed to start at his toes and grow in intensity as it travelled up his body. His head was abruptly thrown back as the quivering in his flesh took hold of the muscles in his neck and his expression went wildly ecstatic and yet, utterly peaceful. Greg found himself quite transfixed as he looked upon his pet in the throes of his delight, as he was transformed into something truly wondrous, an unspeakably beautiful creature composed of light and joy and pure ecstasy. Greg gasped quietly and then moaned as Mycroft's body jerked, his cock twitching madly against its prison. Mycroft groaned aloud, his grey eyes fixed on Greg's face as he jerked again, his face flushing delightfully and a slight sheen of sweat breaking out on his brow. John stepped up next to Greg and they both watched in utter astonishment as Mycroft's cock jumped yet again and a distinct dribble of white fluid came oozing out of the head.

Mycroft's body slumped, and he started to pant heavily, as it seemed that he had momentarily forgotten how to breathe through all that. "Mycroft!  _Jesus_ , pet." Greg reached out to run his fingers through Mycroft's damp hair and nuzzled into his temple briefly. "Did - did you just come? From nothing more than having a bit of leather round your neck?"

"It - it would seem...so." He panted again, his chest heaving. "But it...means so...so much more. Oh God, Gregory..." Mycroft looked up at him, his eyes bright, shining with unshed tears. He groaned wordlessly and shook his head in utter desperation. " _Please._  May - may I, oh please..."

Oh, there it was - that same expression from the week before, only this time Mycroft's need was unmistakable. It wasn't just a shimmering light buried within the depths of his stormy grey eyes, it was a great big bloody beacon, and Greg could no longer ignore it. He no longer  _wanted_  to ignore it. He growled low and bent to take his pet's mouth in a ferocious kiss. Mycroft went up on his knees to meet him, his entire being straining towards his lover. Greg knew what he wanted, what he needed, and although there was still a small part of him that rebelled against the very idea, the fact that this had affected his pet to such a degree had apparently awoken some kind of possessive beast within him. After all, he had just witnessed some kind of impossible display, a silent frenzy that had led to release without one finger being laid on his pet at all. He grasped the ring at the front of the new collar and tugged firmly, licking his way into Mycroft's mouth as he moaned throatily. Greg growled again and pulled away to look Mycroft in the eye. He gave the ring another solid tug, his eyes fluttering at another low moan as his lover swayed into his pull. "Say it, Pet. Say it, and _mean_ it."

Mycroft blinked up at him, clearly hearing the specific emphasis on what had been a simple endearment, but was now a title. He swallowed and blinked serenely as he acknowledged this seismic shift between them.  _"Master."_  Mycroft's voice was low and intense, holding no trace of doubt or regret.

Greg did his best to ignore John's barely repressed squeal of delight, but couldn't help throwing an amused glance over his shoulder at his lover. He released his hold on the collar long enough to wipe away the tears that were cascading down his Pet's cheeks and then took hold of it again with a gentle tug. "Only here, Pet. And only while you're wearing this, do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

"I am the only one allowed to put it on or take it off. If it's something that you feel you need in the moment and I haven't noticed, you will present it to me, on your knees. Is that also understood?" Greg smiled softly at his Pet's silent nod. "You know it will take me a while to get used to the idea, so do not see it as rejection or neglect if it happens to slip my mind. Again, you can ask me anything, Pet. Anything at all."

"Thank you, Master." Mycroft bumped his head gently against the hand that was caressing his hair, and Greg stepped a bit closer, smiling as his pet nuzzled into his inner thigh, pressing his cheek against his hardening cock, running his nose through his pubic hair, blowing gentle cool draughts of air over his heated flesh.

Greg groaned and staggered slightly, as it seemed that all of the blood left his head in a rush. He vaguely heard Mycroft hum with satisfaction as his previously half-hard member stiffened completely, and Greg felt his Pet's nose pressing firmly into the base of his cock as he opened his mouth and laid the flat of his tongue on his bollocks. A slight twist of his head, and one soft lump of flesh was neatly drawn into his Pet's hot wet mouth. Mycroft rolled it on his tongue, sucking gently before letting it slip out, nibbling delicately on the loose skin of his sack as he did so. Then he turned his attention on the other one, taking just as much time and care as with the first.

" _Nghk_. Pet. Not that this isn't wonderful, but John - "

The smaller man quickly stepped up and pressed a kiss to Greg's upper arm. "I'll have my turn, don't you worry about that." He nodded down to where Mycroft was now licking a long, slow stripe up Greg's cock, lapping up the fluid that was beginning to bead up on the tip. "Think of this as a consummation of sorts - the bond you two have has changed. Your Pet needs to service his Master before anything else can happen. If he took care of me first, it wouldn't feel complete to him - it wouldn't feel right. So we're gonna let him have his moment, my love."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pet pleases his Master, and John gets a little reward as well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is where the smut begins... ;-p
> 
> (Just as an aside, with posting this, I have officially hit the 500k mark on words posted! Holy guacamole, Batman!)

"Oh, thank you, John." Mycroft turned grateful eyes on him before slowly swirling his tongue around the head of Greg's cock, flickering delicately along his fraenulum. He closed his eyes briefly and began to take all of his Master into his mouth, again moving slowly, so very slowly.

John ran a hand down Greg's back and tweaked his bum before turning his head slightly and nibbling on his lover's arm, glancing up at his face from underneath his lashes. "Besides, you know how much I like to watch..." Greg made another low, strangled noise before grabbing hold of the collar and thrusting deep into Mycroft's throat. John moaned aloud at the sight, his fingers clutching hard at Greg's arse. "Oh, Jesus, love."

Mycroft's body relaxed into his Master's swift deep strokes, as he angled his head just right and opened his mouth wide. He threw John a sideways glance, taking in the flush to his chest and the hand wrapped firmly around his cock before focusing all of his attention on Gregory, his Master, taking what he needed as was his right, his eyes flashing dark and fierce as he stared down at him and fucked his mouth in the manner that Mycroft had always hoped he would.

There had always been something missing before, a certain restraint that Master would employ, perhaps for fear of hurting him, no matter how many times Mycroft had tried to reassure him that he wouldn't. That he couldn't. But now, oh yes, now that there was no doubt in his mind that Mycroft belonged to him completely, now he was finally taking what was offered in its entirety and oh - it was glorious.

Mycroft could see John in his peripheral vision as he circled them, stroking himself now because yes, there was no resisting this, the primal force that was Gregory Lestrade when he was striving for release. His lovely face dark as a thundercloud, his teeth shining strong and white as he bit his lower lip, hips pistoning, fingers clutching, fucking, yes, truly fucking his mouth strong and sure and Mycroft could feel the tears on his face and the spit running down his chin but he didn't care because oh God he was so beautiful and so close and so he took in air through his nose and started to swallow rhythmically around the head of his Master's lovely thick cock, until he hardened just a bit further, and his whole body seemed to seize as that gorgeous prick jumped and twitched on his tongue. He was dimly aware of John standing at his back, feeling the corona of his body heat as he tucked himself up close to watch over Mycroft's head, his knuckles bumping gently against his back as he continued to stroke himself.

Greg pulled out, the last pulse of his release splashing over Mycroft's swollen lips. He sighed deeply, his chest heaving as his Pet looked up at him, his eyes heavy with lust and satisfaction, glowing with a deep and ethereal joy. John bent down to lick and bite at Mycroft's jawline daintily as he reached around to wipe at his mouth, gathering what Greg had left behind in his palm. "Spit, love." There wasn't much of his Master's come left in his mouth, but Mycroft dutifully swirled his tongue around and let whatever was in there dribble out into John's hand. "Oh yes. Down, now."

Mycroft obeyed, leaning forward until his cheek was mashed into the plush carpeting. He heard the creak of his Master's knees as he joined him on the floor, and that wasn't right, but then, maybe it was, because he was taking his head into his lap and petting him softly and oh God, Mycroft wanted nothing more than to be caressed by the man he loved for the rest of time and it didn't matter where they were.

Then he felt John's hand, gently positioning him, making sure that his legs were pressed together and his arse up and what was he doing... Mycroft squirmed as he felt John's cock slide in between his legs, slick with Master's come and his saliva and oh, oh yes. He tensed the muscles in his thighs as John started to move and he didn't think it would take long at all because his rhythm seemed off from the moment he started, and indeed it was only five or six strokes before he heard a quiet curse and felt a hot splash against his skin, and then there were a couple of smaller spurts pulsing between his legs as John continued to roll his hips against him, riding out the vestiges of his orgasm.  
   
John briefly braced himself on Mycroft's lower back as he caught his breath, and then he reached to unhook his wrists from the waist belt. Mycroft let his arms fall forward, and he shifted as John withdrew, shuffling closer to his Master and rolling onto his side, curling into him slightly. Master murmured to him, quiet and low, telling him what a good Pet he was as he ran his fingers through his hair. Then Mycroft felt John's warmth at his back, his hand on his cheek, and he turned his head slightly so the smaller man could wipe his face with a warm damp cloth. He hissed in discomfort as John moved down to spread his legs in order to wipe between his sticky thighs, but sighed as a gentle kiss was pressed to the underside of his knee, to his belly and then to his chest as John laid down next to him, putting his head on Greg's other knee, mirroring Mycroft's posture.  
   
Mycroft reached out and ran his fingers over John's bottom lip. "I'm sorry."  
   
John blinked at him as his tongue darted out to flicker over his fingertips. "Whatever for?"  
   
"This was supposed to be about you, John. Your birthday. I've cocked it all up by becoming an emotional mess."  
   
Greg chuckled above him and scraped his nails down his back lightly. Mycroft couldn't help but shiver with delight, humming as he curled further into himself. John scooted just a bit closer, tweaking his earlobe. "It was never just about me, Mycroft. This is about us. All of us. It's all right if things don't go exactly according to plan, sweetheart."  
   
Mycroft scoffed quietly. "I always have contingencies in place, John. I'm not used to feeling so, so - disorganised."  
   
"It's okay to just let things happen, Pet. And we all know that this isn't a one-time thing. There will be other opportunities available to us."  
   
Mycroft whined quietly as he pressed his face into his Master's solid thigh. "But this was supposed to be special for him. A treat."  
   
John came up on his knees and swiftly rolled Mycroft onto his back, straddling his waist and leaning forward to cradle his face in both hands gently. "It is special. Oh my God, Mycroft, do you have any idea how happy I am for you right now?" He ran his fingers along the collar lightly. "To be witness to this - I've never seen anything so beautiful before."  
   
"Thank you, John." Greg smiled down at the both of them as they caressed each other quietly. He knew that Mycroft was thanking John not just for his words, but for being the catalyst in the sea-change within their relationship.  
   
"It was my privilege, My." He leant down to nip playfully at Mycroft's nose. "Besides, it's not like the evening is over, is it? We still have a couple of hours at the very least." Mycroft wriggled underneath him, turning a delighted smile on Greg.  
   
"What did you have in mind, love?"

"First of all, even though this carpeting is ridiculously plush, I think we should all get our ancient bones off the floor and into that lovely bed."  
   
Greg groaned throatily. "I concur." Mycroft giggled as John stood and pulled him to his feet, and between the two of them, they were able to get Greg up and all three of them toppled into the bed together. John swatted at Mycroft's backside as he crawled to the far side, making sure to leave enough room for the entire party. Greg sat up against the headboard and pulled John across his lap as Mycroft stretched out by his side. "Now what, birthday boy?" Greg's body shuddered as both John and Mycroft giggled happily.  
   
John reached out to trail his fingers along Mycroft's clavicle and then lower. "I'm intrigued by your pet's little display earlier. Had that happened before?"  
   
"I've been able to make him come while caged, but I'd never seen anything like that."  
   
Mycroft shook his head as John quirked an eyebrow at him inquisitively. "No, John. I was entirely taken aback by my reaction." He put a hand to his neck, fingering the collar lightly. "I was completely unaware that something so simple could mean quite that much to me. I had no idea that I needed it to that degree, or that it would affect me in such an astonishing manner."  
   
"Mm." John continued to caress Mycroft's creamy skin, tracing along the leather straps of the harness. "I imagine it feels different than your usual orgasm..."  
   
"Oh, yes. It's - well, quieter. Still intense in its own way, but it leaves me feeling a little incomplete. Vaguely unsettled, like... Like I've forgotten something at the shop, if you get my meaning."  
   
John laughed brightly. "I know precisely what you mean, My." He ran his hand lower along Mycroft's body, cupping his bollocks before tugging on the cock-cage. "How did you do it, Greg?"

"Well, the first time it happened was the first time I fucked him, actually. I had just given him the very plug he's wearing now, and told him to be ready for me when he arrived. How long had you been wearing it, Pet?"

"At least two hours, Master." Mycroft blushed as he lifted his head slightly, watching John's fingers as they traced random patterns on his exposed skin. "It's my favourite, now." His voice was hushed as he glanced aside at John's face and then away, almost as if he were sharing an illicit secret. "He chose very well - it's the perfect size to keep me open, but I still feel that wonderful stretch when he enters me. That delicious burn, oh yes. And it just barely grazes my prostate, so I'm not over-stimulated... It's perfect for me, it really is."

John swallowed. "I see." Mycroft moaned quietly and eagerly spread his thighs for John's questing fingers, squirming as he grasped the base of the plug and rotated it slowly. Greg grunted quietly and ground up against John's arse, his cock rapidly taking an interest in the interaction between his lover and his Pet. "So you had near constant stimulation for a couple of hours, then Greg essentially fucked you into the mattress and you came despite not being able to get hard. I imagine there was an emotional component to the evening as well?"

Mycroft gasped as John continued to manipulate the toy buried deep in his arse. "Oh, yes, John. It had been rather a long while since I had indulged in that sort of activity, and he felt so good, so, so - _right_ that I was quite carried away. And - well - he told me to let go, so I did."

Greg bit his lip as John turned to look at him, his slate-blue eyes gone nearly black with arousal. "I want to see it. I want to feel it."

"Now?"

John shook his head slightly as he extracted himself from Greg's lap and slid off the bed, heading for the chains that were still lined up on the desk. "No, first I'm going to ride you, love. We're gonna get your darling Pet so turned on that he can barely think, and then you're going to bend him over and fuck him silly while he sucks me off and between the two of us we should be able to make that poor imprisoned cock of his twitch and jump and dribble again. Because I have to tell you, that was one of the hottest fucking things I have ever witnessed and just the very idea that you can do these things to him, well - good god _damn_ , my love." John clambered back onto the bed and into Greg's lap, draping a couple lengths of chain over Mycroft's belly before grinding up against his lover and taking his mouth in a fierce kiss. "You are seriously one of the sexiest motherfuckers on this planet, Gregory Lestrade, and oh God, how I do love watching you in action..."

Greg blinked at him in silence, his mouth flopping about inelegantly. John huffed out a quiet laugh as Mycroft writhed, already stretching his arms over his head in anticipation of being restrained. John straddled Mycroft's chest briefly, leaning forward to slide the chain through the posts on the headboard before hooking it to the wrist cuffs. Mycroft licked his lips desperately as John's erection bounced against his sternum.

"John..."

John grinned down as he rutted against him gently. "Not yet, My. If I were to stick my cock in your mouth right now I wouldn't be able to stop myself, and then the plan would be ruined, yeah?"

Mycroft's lips twisted in a wry half-smile. "Contingencies."

"Just so." Then he shifted, turning around and bending rather unnecessarily to bind Mycroft at the ankles. Both he and Greg moaned at the sight being presented to them, and John gifted them with a saucy wink over his shoulder as he wiggled his arse. He sat back on his heels momentarily and looked at Mycroft seriously. "All right, My?"

Mycroft shifted slightly, tugging at the restraints. Nothing was pulled uncomfortably tight, and his joints were moving freely, so he nodded, gracing John with a slight smile. "Yes, John."

"Good." He turned his attentions back to Greg, who was fiddling with a new bottle of lubricant, struggling to get the safety seal off. John snorted and took it away from him, ripping it off with one swipe of his thumbnail and replacing the cap. "When was the last time?"

"The last time I made him come while locked up?" John nodded. "Just a couple of weeks ago - that day we all went out. That one was with fingers. Oh, and I talked him through it."

"Mm. You do have such a delightfully dirty way with words when you've got the proper inspiration, don't you?" John pushed himself up on his hands and knees and crawled over to position himself above Mycroft's prone form. "C'mere, love. Start using those fingers on me." Greg shook his head as John grinned wickedly down at Mycroft's startled expression, but swiftly joined them and just as swiftly sunk one slick digit right into his lover without hesitation. John's back arched and he hissed with pleasure before darting down to lick at a pink nipple. "Fuck, yes. What - _unh_ \- what did you say to him?"

"Just that I knew how much he loved my cock, that he probably daydreamed about it while attending to terribly important matters of state. Told him to imagine himself on his knees, to imagine me coming down his throat..." John moaned and pushed back into Greg's thrusting finger before leaning down to the other nipple, catching it in his teeth. Mycroft cried out and pushed his chest up into John's mouth. "Oh yes, I told him to imagine me pulsing on his tongue, filling his mouth with my come and I'll be damned if he didn't bloody well pop off right then. Couldn't leave it there, though. Pulled him in close and set my teeth into those marks and I'm pretty damn sure he came again."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John continues to tease, and Pet gets to watch him get off...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may post another chapter tomorrow, since I don't seem to have any self-control at all... But beyond that, this particular scene is not entirely written up yet, so it may be a while before I'm able to finish it off. We shall see...
> 
> Please do comment, let me know if you're enjoying this at all...
> 
> *mwah*

Mycroft writhed and moaned as John licked and kissed and nibbled and sucked wherever he could reach, all maddeningly light touches because he knew better than to leave a mark, oh no, that privilege was for his Master alone, and just the fact that John knew that, that he respected that, was nearly enough to send Mycroft spinning out of control again. Greg added a second finger to John's arse and crooked them slightly as he twisted his wrist, grinning sharply as his lover cried out and rolled his hips.   
   
John blew out a harsh breath and licked his lips. "A-and did you, My?"  
   
"I did, John. I almost felt as though he had incapacitated me. That I'd had a stroke - honestly, the only thought running through my head at that moment was 'Thank God there's a doctor nearby'."  
   
"Good to know I'm useful for something in this madhouse."

"John, you cannot seriously think -"

John almost laughed at the stern expression on Mycroft's face before Greg twisted his hand again and added an additional finger. " _Ngh_ \- God. No, My, no." He groaned again and dipped his spine, dragging the leaking head of his cock across Mycroft's lower belly. "Joke. Just a bad joke." He pushed back against Greg hard. "Oh fuck - now, love. I need you now."

Greg put his free hand on the middle of John's back and suddenly pushed him flat, so that his entire body was pressed up against the bound man wriggling on the bed. "Could take you like this, John. Fuck you right on top of him."

John bit down hard on one supple leather strap as Mycroft shivered with delight, growling loudly. "Stick to the plan, Gregory. I want to ride you. I need you, please." He snarled and struggled to push himself up on his knees. "Now, dammit."

Greg chuckled low and dark, watching with delight as the two men next to him rubbed against each other shamelessly. He bent down swiftly to sink his teeth into the firm flesh of John's left arse-cheek before withdrawing his fingers. John's body jerked hard and he let out a startled yelp before beginning to laugh breathlessly. Mycroft moaned at every undulation of the tight body pressed against his, until John's giggles died out. He pushed himself back onto hands and knees as Greg stretched out on the mattress and started to slick himself up with long, steady strokes.

John hummed with pleasure as Mycroft strained toward him wordlessly, his face flushed and utterly needy. John lowered his head until he was bare millimetres away, feeling the heat of Mycroft's skin radiating against his lips. But as much as Mycroft tugged and pulled and stretched, he just couldn't quite reach. John hummed again as the man underneath him whined and whimpered helplessly, finally surrendering and letting his head fall back against the pillows.

Mycroft went still, or as still as he could manage, as his body seemed a bit out of his control, the muscles in his arms and thighs twitching and leaping under his skin. John smiled, wickedly filthy and somehow loving and gentle all at once, and Mycroft gasped as his hair was gripped hard and his head tipped back. John nosed along his jawline before kissing him, deftly slipping his tongue deep into his mouth, probing insistently. Mycroft moaned into John's mouth and moved against him as languidly as he could manage, striving to hold back on his desperate need.

Greg groaned, and John abruptly pulled away from Mycroft's lips, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he glanced over at his silver-haired lover. "Gregory, stop." His eyes flickered down to his lover's groin, where someone's hands had obviously been a little too busy. "Save that for me, you selfish bastard."

"I'm not the one being selfish, love. Here I am, all ready and positively aching for you, and you're over there, seemingly intent on simply rubbing off on my Pet..."

"Mm. My birthday, my prerogative, yeah?"

Greg breathed out a melodramatic sigh and obediently clenched his hands into fists at his sides. "And what was that about plans?"

John smirked. "Patience, Gregory." He slid down Mycroft's body slightly. "Just another nibble or two." He traced inside the o-ring framing Mycroft's navel with one finger. "Been dying to do this since he slipped that robe off..." With that he ducked his head down low and huffed a warm breath over Mycroft's belly before flickering his tongue around and then inside the ring. John sealed his lips around it and sucked gently, clearly hearing Greg's barely repressed moan as Mycroft gasped and jerked underneath him.

Mycroft's back bowed as John sucked harder and he rode out the spasm with a quiet chuckle, sliding a bit lower down his body as he relaxed, nuzzling into the hollow of one hipbone. John inhaled deeply before running his tongue in a slow spiral and then down into the crease between thigh and groin. His ears picked up another soft moan from his love as Mycroft twitched again and this time John responded in kind, groaning around a mouthful of tender flesh, having deftly sucked one of the red-haired man's bollocks into his mouth. His aroma, sophisticated and heady, was only enhanced by his taste, his sweat salty-sweet against John's tongue.

John flicked a fingernail against the cock-cage as he let Mycroft slip out of his mouth and sat back on his heels. "Oh, so sweet... Such a tasty creature you are, My."

"John..." Mycroft's voice was quiet but desperate, his grey eyes overflowing with quite sincere pleading. "John, _please_."

John shook his head sadly. "Plans, sweetheart." Mycroft groaned in pure frustration as John slipped off of him and clambered over Greg's legs.

Greg tipped his head back and moaned as John took him in hand. "Might not last too long, love. Poor Pet's not the only one turned on beyond all rational thought."

"Pfft. If that were true, you wouldn't have been able to state that thought so clearly, you great fibber." He slithered up Greg's body slightly, positioning himself over the head of his lover's hard cock. John gasped as it jumped in his hand, but then all of the air eased out of his body as he slowly sank down, impaling himself completely.

" _Unh_. Jesus motherfucking Christ, John. Fuck, you feel so _good_." Mycroft whined quietly, shifting his body slightly to the side so he could turn his head in order to watch. "Were you - oh fuck - were you trying to get him off on your own?"

John grunted and started to circle his hips, just rocking on Greg's prick in a slow, steady motion. He shrugged and spared a glance for Mycroft. "Thought I'd see what effect I may have had..." He winked down at his lover and bent forward slightly to brace himself on the broad spread of his ribs. "You know that was nowhere near my best effort. I may want to try to make him come like that someday, but tonight, I want to see you do it."

Mycroft whimpered again, and Greg reached out for him, tugging on the collar gently before putting his hand to his lips. His Pet eagerly drew two digits into his mouth without delay, suckling on them and making delighted little noises in the back of his throat. John gasped quietly and increased the tempo of his rocking hips, his eyes darting between the two men's faces.

Greg groaned and braced his feet, thrusting up into John's moist heat, running his free hand up one golden, tense thigh, tracing the muscles of his stomach, tweaking a nipple before cupping the back of his neck and drawing him down for a searing kiss. John gasped into his mouth as the movement brought his abundantly leaking cock into contact with Greg's heated flesh, and his rhythm stuttered slightly.

Greg chuckled. "Touch yourself, love. This time you're gonna let my Pet see it, yeah?"

A heady but muffled moan from Mycroft sent John's body shuddering, and he abruptly straightened and wrapped a hand around himself, rocking on Greg's cock harder and faster. Greg did what he could to brace him with one hand, angling his hips high and up as he drove into his lover and there it was, that sharp gasp that told him he had found the spot and John's eyes flew open wide and his tongue darted out to lick his lips before his mouth and eyes twisted into a grimace and the most delightful shade of pink flushed over his face and chest and he came with a strangled shout.

Mycroft had gone utterly still, his eyes roaming all over the smaller man's body until coming to rest on the glorious sight of his spurting cock, long white stripes shooting out to cover his hand and his Master's belly. He knew that John liked to ride out his orgasms for as long as possible, slowly and gently squeezing out every little twitch and aftershock. But this time a lingering denouement was not meant to be, because Master was clearly not finished.

Greg growled and withdrew his hand from Mycroft's mouth, wrapping both firmly around John's hips before once more setting his feet firmly on the mattress. John's eyes widened slightly at the intense look on his lover's face, but he nodded as he bent forward slightly, placing his hands on Greg's shoulders for support. And with that, Greg started to move, thrusting gently at first, swiftly transitioning into a steady frenzy, hard, fast - almost brutal. John cried out with every stroke, his face twisted into some exquisite combination of pleasure and pain. Greg threw his head back and his throat seemed to close over his cry as nothing but a hoarse croak emerged, but yes, he was coming, and he slammed into the pliant body above his once, twice more, releasing his seed deep before relaxing into the mattress with a shuddering sigh.

John took in a deep breath through his nose and exhaled slowly. "Jesus, love." Greg acknowledged him with a soft snort, his dark eyes fluttering as he regained his equilibrium. John shifted slightly, sitting up straight and trailing his fingers through the mess he had left behind, reaching out to Mycroft to casually wipe a little of it on his skin.

Mycroft seemed to come back to life at the touch, his slack mouth snapping shut, his teeth clenching over a quiet gasp. John giggled and wiped up a bit more of his come, smearing it within that same o-ring framing his navel. Mycroft smiled up at him a little shyly. "John..."

"Such a cute little bellybutton you have, My. I wonder what it would look like with jewellery..."

Greg groaned appreciatively and turned his head to catch Mycroft's eye. "That's a lovely idea, John. I could get you a tag, Pet. 'If lost, please return to G Lestrade, 221B Baker Street'."

Mycroft's body shuddered violently. "Oh. Oh, Master..."

"Thought you might like that idea." Greg groaned as John lifted himself off of his lap and settled down on his belly on the mattress, squeezing in between him and Mycroft. Greg shifted slightly and reached up to unhook Mycroft's wrist cuffs. "Clean us up, Pet."

Mycroft stretched and bent down to unhook the ankle chain, leaving one side dangling. He licked his lips as he shifted to his knees. "Master, may I - "

Greg grinned. "God, you're a filthy beast. Yes, you may use your tongue." John groaned, the sound muffled by the mattress, wriggling slightly as Mycroft placed one trembling hand on the back of his thigh. "Start with me, Pet. John's usually a bit twitchy at this stage, so we'll let him recover a bit more, yeah?"

"Yes, Master." John turned his head and gave Greg a wink as Mycroft climbed over his legs to drape himself over Greg's shins. As the chain that was still connected to the ankle cuffs slid over John's calves, he was startled by a swift whole-body jerk. Mycroft paused, an expression of delight slowly lighting up his face. "John?"

_"Erm."_

"Unhook it and pass it up, Pet." Mycroft obeyed, biting his lip as he gently dragged the chain over John's prone form, blushing furiously at every twitch that the touch elicited. Greg chuckled as he took possession of the chain, and then nodded down at his groin. "Go on, then."

Mycroft grinned crookedly and bent to his task, slowly and surely dragging his tongue over every streak of John's come on his Master's belly, eventually working his way lower. Greg gasped and his body shuddered at the wet rasping sensation on his soft cock and damp bollocks, shivering with delight as Mycroft sat up, licking his lips lasciviously, his eyes shining with desire.

"Fuck, Pet. Kiss me."

Mycroft frowned slightly. "Oh, but Master, I'm - "

"A base and dirty, disgusting creature. Utterly _filthy_." Greg growled as John moaned at his side. "Now come here and kiss me before I become angry with you." Mycroft scrambled up his body hastily, pressing his mouth to his Master's desperately. Greg dropped the chain in his hand onto John's back and fisted both hands into Mycroft's hair, holding his head tight as he lavished wet open-mouthed kisses all over his lips and chin and jawline. "Mine, fuck yes. _Mine._ Debauched and filthy and beautiful and perfect - Jesus yes, so lovely and mine."

Mycroft whimpered quietly as his Master tugged firmly on his collar. "Yes, Master. Yours. Only yours. Whatever you wish, whatever you command. I will obey. Absolutely."

Greg pulled his Pet's head back a little, so he could look him in the eyes. "Yes, Pet. I know you will." He smiled softly to see the beginnings of a new set of tears forming in Mycroft's eyes. Greg pulled him down to his chest and wrapped his arms around him, simply holding on as his Pet's body quaked slightly.

Mycroft sniffled into his skin. "I'm dreadfully sorry, Master. I'm utterly useless this evening."

"I wouldn't say that, Pet."

"I think you've been a marvel." John reached out to trace along the waist belt before running his fingers in lazy circles over Mycroft's lower back. He let his fingers dip a little lower, tracing the curve of one creamy buttock before cupping it gently in his hand and giving it a tender squeeze. Mycroft smiled into his Master's chest as John began to knead the flesh rhythmically. "Mycroft, my dear, you have a perfectly _lovely_ arse."

Mycroft giggled and shifted atop his Master's body to face John, tentatively reaching out to mimic the smaller man's movements, lightly fingering and squeezing at his firm cheeks. "Yours isn't so bad either, Doctor Watson." He giggled again as John smiled brightly. "Little dirty, perhaps."

"Yes, and I believe you were meant to do something about that." Mycroft jerked guiltily at his Master's words and slowly sat up, shifting himself onto the mattress.

John slithered sideways as Mycroft began to lower his head. "I'd prefer you use a cloth, sweetheart." He reached up to cup Mycroft's face as it fell ever-so-slightly, pulling him down for a gentle kiss. "It's all dried and nasty now, and would take a lot of effort to get all clean. I'd rather not overwork that incredible tongue of yours just yet." He nipped at Mycroft's lower lip playfully. "Not...yet..."

Mycroft squealed quietly and bounded off the bed and into the tiny toilet, coming back with a few steaming flannels. John squirmed and heaved out a lusty sigh as the hot wet cloths were laid down over the back of each thigh and tucked into the crack of his arse. His face flopped back into the pillow as Greg shifted beside him, sitting up and taking the chain in hand once again.

Greg held one end of the chain and let the other dangle over John's prone form, dragging it across his skin, the cold, heavy weight slithering over him. John's body jerked again, and he heaved out a shuddering sigh. He was only dimly aware of Mycroft's soft but strong hands massaging the crusty funk away with the aid of the damp flannels. The touch of the chain seemed to have driven everything else out, body and mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein we find out a bit of John's past...

Greg hummed low. "Well, now. Isn't this just a turn up?"

John tilted his head and squinted one suspicious eye up at his lover. He shivered again as Greg laid the chain along the line of his spine, the end just brushing the end of his tail-bone, right at the top of the crack of his arse. John's eyes fluttered as Mycroft carefully pried him open, swiping the cloth along and down, making sure he was thoroughly clean. He could see Greg out of the corner of his eye, biting his bottom lip hard as he nodded at his Pet.

John groaned loudly as Mycroft took firm hold of either cheek, holding him open so Greg could lift the chain and dip it between his legs, letting nearly the entire length of it pool on the mattress before dragging it back up, making sure that every link bounced and tugged against the most sensitive flesh, the swollen pink pucker of his hole. John squirmed as he moaned, his face planted firmly in a pillow. Without speaking a word, John slowly rearranged himself, bringing his knees under his body as he raised his arms above his head, clasping the bedposts in his hands.

He dipped his spine at Mycroft's soft gasp of delight, and let out a trembling noise of his own as Greg wrapped the chain around his wrists and through the bed posts loosely. It wasn't enough to hold him, not really. It was just enough to make him aware of it, the heavy weight of the links somehow reassuring against his outstretched arms. He tugged against it gently as Greg hummed again, his warm, broad hands smoothing down the arch of John's back, curving along his arse and down his thighs, fingers tickling along the inside ever-so-lightly.  
   
"What is it you need, my love?"  
   
John shook his head, his lips trembling. He almost felt as if his body was buzzing lightly, his skin vibrating with every gentle touch. "I don't know, Greg." He shook his head again, letting it drop between his outstretched arms. "Jesus, why don't I know?"  
   
Greg hummed again as he continued to run his fingers along and down John's back and thighs, his touch light, almost ghostly. "You did have a little freak-out once in regards to this sort of thing. Remember? We never did revisit that." John took in a great draught of air and let it out slowly. "Only if you're comfortable talking about it, love. I can send Pet out of the room if you'd like."  
   
"No, I'd like him to stay. Just - " John tugged at his restraints lightly, but found the chain to be a bit harder to shift than he first imagined it might be. "Let me flip over. I'm talking to the bloody mattress here."  
   
Mycroft giggled as Greg rolled his eyes and shook his head in an exaggerated 'what a fool' gesture before reaching out to unwind the chain. John immediately flipped onto his back and stretched out again, nodding at Greg to wrap him up once more. He tilted his head, his eye catching the glint of the chain that was still wrapped up in the bedposts from Mycroft's earlier imprisonment. John bit his lip, and Mycroft reached for it, sliding down in the bed toward his feet.  
   
"John, would you like me to..."  
   
He bit his lip a little harder and nodded abruptly. Mycroft wrapped it between and around his ankles, leaving the end hanging loose; with the coils twisted around each other, it was just as effective as if he were truly bound. Especially if he didn't struggle, and oh, he didn't want that at all. John gave a little shiver as Mycroft's cool hands slid up his shins.  
   
"Any time you're ready, love."  
   
"My, you may have picked up on the fact that I have a bit of experience with this sort of thing. Not extensive, but - well." John sighed. "It started with a girl, of course."  
   
Mycroft shrugged idly as he continued to stroke John's legs. "I'm afraid I've never seen the appeal."  
   
John lifted his head and grinned slightly. "Gold-star, eh?" Mycroft frowned in confusion and blinked at him silently. "You've never..."  
   
"No. I always knew that I was attracted exclusively to men. Since there was no doubt, there was no need for me to experiment."  
   
"Well, I grew up a bit like our Gregory here, I think. I'm attracted to both genders, but with the way I was raised, it was assumed that of course I'd be getting married, and of course it would be to a lovely girl and we would have the 1.3 kids and maybe a dog running around the garden and so on. So I focused on girls and didn't really let myself think about blokes at all." He sighed again. "It happened when in my mid-twenties. That's such an influential age - you still think you're somewhat indestructible, but the fact that you don't know everything has been made crystal clear to you. I had already done my rotation at Bart's, but I was a bit aimless at that point. I think that the idea for joining the Army had been planted in my head, but I wasn't ready to make the commitment just yet."

"You shiftless fucker." Greg grinned down at him, his fingers tracing along the lines of John's ribcage.

John chuckled as he wriggled against the mattress slightly. "Enter Arianna, then. She was a couple of years older, dark and lovely - Spanish. She was a little bit of a wild child, y'know? Apparently, she saw something in me that I hadn't been entirely aware of."

"That you like to order people about. Especially when you don't want to do the dishes."

"Gregory, for God's sake. If you would just wash the damn things when it was your turn, I wouldn't have to nag you, now, would I?" John huffed exasperatedly as Greg winked at Mycroft, who was stifling his giggles as best he could with both hands to his mouth. John rolled his eyes as he fought an answering grin. "You cute little bastard."

Mycroft squeaked quietly. "Me?"

"Yes, you. I've told you, Pet. When you're this kind of happy, the cuteness nearly kills me. You're fucking adorable."

"It's terribly distracting, sweetheart."

Mycroft took in a deep breath and attempted to calm himself, tilting his head back and staring at the ceiling for a long moment. When he faced them both again, his expression was carefully neutral, the rhythm of his breathing once more steady and quiet. "John, please continue."

John chuckled as Greg shook his head. "Right. Um. So, yes. Arianna. Well, she'd been to a few clubs, participated in a few scenes, that sort of thing, but when we met, she was looking for something more."

"She wanted a Dom."

"Right in one, My. I think she wanted someone with a natural inclination towards dominance, but who was relatively inexperienced with it."

Greg cast an amused glance at Mycroft, who blushed furiously. "Sounds familiar. She wanted to train you up to her specifications."

John rolled his eyes slightly at the two men leaning over him. "Yeah, something like that. It's not a bad way to learn, really. Going into that environment for the first time as a couple, it's easier for people to trust you, to open up and share their secrets, their techniques. On the whole, the community is very welcoming and we both learnt a lot in the year or so that we were together. However..."

Mycroft tilted his head. "You're not a Dom. You're a switch."

"Exactly. After doing nothing but topping for a whole year, I needed to let go a bit - maybe have a little time underneath somebody for a change. And after hanging out in the clubs, where just about anything goes, I found myself appreciating the male form quite a lot more than I initially realised. I wanted a scene where I was bottoming, and I wanted a bloke to be the one topping me."

"Arianna resisted, of course."

"Well spotted, sweetheart. After all, she had a very clear idea of what our roles were, and she had chosen me to be her Dom. What I wanted was apparently against my nature, according to her. In the end, I had to full-on order her to find us a suitable play-partner. My first mistake was trusting her to make the proper decision, of course."

"She didn't want you to enjoy yourself, so she deliberately chose unwisely."

John nodded with a little rueful grin. "She went to an old friend of hers who had recently entered the scene himself. He was greener than I was, for fuck's sake. We had talked it all out multiple times beforehand, and had decided to do it at Arianna's, since she had all the gear we'd need and so on. At first, it was fine. He ordered me to strip, to crawl around a little, pretty basic stuff. He had me kneel, and he bound my hands. Okay, no biggie. Then he tried to stuff his cock down my throat."

Mycroft winced. "Bloody beginners. Why is that always their first trick?"

John quirked a small smile at him and turned it on Greg as he bent down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I had told him I'd be okay with it, but that I'd appreciate the opportunity to go slow, since his was the first cock other than mine that I'd be getting intimately acquainted with. But going slow was for sissies, apparently. And after the initial gagging fit, I was really getting into it, so y'know... I was definitely turned on, and I guess he saw that as a sign that I was ready for more. A lot more."

Mycroft frowned and laid down next to him, resting his head on John's chest as he curled into him slightly, throwing an arm and a leg over his body as if to shelter him. Greg smiled down at the both of them, gently wiping away the moisture that was threatening to break free from both of his lovers' eyes.

"Oh, such a sweet pet you are, My." John winked up at his lover. "Give him a little rub from me, love." Greg quirked one eyebrow, but didn't hesitate to run his fingers through Mycroft's soft red hair, his thumb gently caressing the shell of his ear. Mycroft sighed happily and wriggled against John's body before humming low in his chest. John grinned. "Jesus, you're a doll. Like a big old kitty-cat..." Greg snorted as Mycroft turned his head and delicately licked at one golden-brown nipple, smiling with satisfaction as John shivered delicately. "But you don't have to feel bad for me, sweetheart. He didn't get me. Not that he didn't bloody well try his damnedest..." Greg growled incoherently as John shook his head. "There was this small table that had been converted into a sort of bench, with padding and the like. He dragged me over to it and bent me over, and at first I thought he was going to paddle or maybe spank me, because we'd talked about that, and I'd given permission. We had also talked about fucking being quite definitely off the table for the first session. Big fat hard limit."

Greg scowled fiercely with another low growl. "Which he ignored."

"Oh, yeah. It wasn't until I heard him order Arianna to bring the spreader bar that I started to object. Called out a yellow as he was strapping in one ankle and then a red as he tried to catch my other foot. Well, let's just say he caught it, all right."

Mycroft sat up abruptly, turning an utterly delighted grin on the bound man. "Ooh, _John_. Did you break something? Please tell me that you broke something."

Greg snorted. "You vicious bloodthirsty deviant."

John giggled and nodded as Mycroft clapped his hands excitedly. "I did, in fact. His nose, which gushed an extraordinary amount of blood. The berk passed clean out. Arianna had to let me loose so I could stem the flood, and I took the opportunity to straighten it while he was still out cold."

Mycroft's mouth turned down with a little moue of disappointment. "You should have waited until he was conscious again, waited until he could feel it. And then maybe you could have had the pleasure of watching him faint again..."

John grinned crookedly. "What an adorable little sadist you are, My. But at that point I really just wanted to be out of there. So I washed up, dressed, and bolted. I left Arianna to clean up the rest, and well - just left her, too."  
   
Greg ran his fingers down John's outstretched arm, tracing the outline of his ribs along his side. "That definitely explains your reaction that one time at the club."  
   
John swallowed and tilted his head back. "Yeah. You - well. You turned into him for a second, and I panicked. Even though nothing really happened that night... I suppose it affected me more than I realised at the time, and the circumstances were just right for it to pop up again. If it makes you feel any better, love - you did everything right. You listened to me, and you were willing to stop if I needed it. You were, and are, exactly what I needed. Then and now."  
   
Greg nodded slightly with a faint but pleased smile, his eyes following the invisible trails that his fingers were leaving on his lover's skin. "I don't suppose you remember a name..."  
   
John rolled his eyes and let out a sharp bark of laughter at the forced casualness of his tone. "That is _not_ going to happen, Gregory. It was nearly twenty years ago, for fuck's sake. I'm sure he's learnt the proper way to behave in a BDSM scene by now. And if he hasn't, then someone else has certainly given him lessons - I'm sure of that, at the very least."  
   
 _"Hmph."_  Greg leant down to buss him gently on the forehead. "I wasn't going to track him down or anything..."  
   
"Bullshit." John laughed again before winking at Mycroft. "You leave it alone as well, My. I know you have the resources to find the bloke even if I don't cough up a name." Mycroft pulled an adorable pout. "Yeah - no. That face isn't going to make me change my mind. I will tell Greg to order you not to interfere if I have to."  
   
Mycroft sighed and lowered his eyes. "Yes, John."  
   
"Thank you." John flexed his muscles and sighed as the chains tugged at his body. "I do appreciate the sentiment, though."  
   
"Whatever happened to the girl?"  
   
"She tried to get me to come back to her, tried to use the whole disastrous scene as some kind of object lesson."

"Oh, obviously." Mycroft huffed with annoyance. "You were simply too dominant to allow that man to penetrate you, so your inner caveman reared up at the last moment to save you from yourself."

John nodded with a little smirk, amused by Mycroft's tone. "Never mind that I had clearly stated on multiple occasions during our negotiations that I wouldn't allow it. Somehow that bit was always glossed over whenever she started arguing with me again. I eventually just stopped answering her calls. In the end, I mostly felt a bit sorry for her. For so much of your personal identity to be tied up in the idea of another person, rather than the actual reality, you know? If she had accepted me for who I was, rather than who she expected me to be, who knows how far we could have gone? Kind of ridiculous really - she wasn't even submissive. Not truly. She liked to be tied up and tossed around a bit, but to me that just felt like she liked it a bit rough. Sure, if I yelled, she'd scramble, but it was never instinctual. There was always a pause, like she had to stop and consider before obeying."

John glanced sideways at Greg, dropping him a sly wink. "Not like  _you_ , Mycroft. You're a true submissive. The men you've served never really knew how good they had it. Not that you had submitted to them fully - you were waiting for Greg this whole time, weren't you? And now that you have him - oh, he's your whole world, isn't he? You simply live and breathe your Gregory, don't you, My?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John reveals his thoughts on My's reluctance to play with his brother, and gets a little surprise in return...

Mycroft shifted back onto his knees at John's side and laid one hand on the flat of his belly just above his groin, smiling brightly at John's whole-body tremor. "Yes, John. He is my Master, and I would do anything he asked of me. Anything."  
   
"That's right. Submissive to the core, aren't you?" John tilted his head slightly, trying his damnedest to ignore the elegant finger that was delicately tracing slow spirals around his navel and sending delicious shivers through his body. "At least, that's how you see yourself." He smiled as Mycroft's gentle caresses stopped suddenly, his cool grey eyes focusing on John's face with a laser-like intensity. "Much like Arianna, you have a very set idea of who you are and how you should behave. Am I right?"  
   
Greg cleared his throat quietly. "Love, what are you on about?"  
   
John glanced up at him again. "I think that's what has been holding him back from playing with Sherlock."  
   
Mycroft blinked and sighed. "He is my _brother_."  
   
"Yes, your little brother. And you want him. I don't mean to make light of your turmoil, My, but we all know it. We can all see it. Poor lad's been twisting himself in knots trying to appease you. In a way, you denying him has been a bit of a power-play, hasn't it?" Mycroft frowned impressively. "I don't think you've been entirely aware of it, sweetheart. I don't think you're deliberately stringing him along or anything like that. I know that you're uneasy about the idea, but it isn't because of his relation to you."  
   
"No?" Mycroft swallowed against his discomfort and narrowed his eyes slightly.  
   
John grinned up at him disarmingly. "No. It's because of what you want to do to him. Admit it, Mycroft. You think about him, you dream about him. Have done for a long time. But when you see him in your head, he's always underneath you, isn't he? On his knees, begging for you - that fine, plush arse in the air, nicely pink because you've just tanned the hell out of him. God, he gives enough attitude now that I can only imagine what he must have been like when he was younger - he must have been quite the nightmare as a teenager. And you've always wanted to teach him a lesson, haven't you, Mycroft? Big brother teaching his snotty younger sibling just what is acceptable behaviour and what is not."  
   
Greg moaned quietly and Mycroft's grey eyes snapped to his face before dropping down to his crotch and then back up swiftly. "Jesus, Pet." Greg shifted on the mattress as his cock twitched hard again. "It's true, isn't it? You want to hold your baby brother down, make him squeal, don't you?" John squirmed as his own prick started to fill out, and Greg reached out to tweak at his bollocks gently. "Fuck, that's  _hot_."  
   
Mycroft squeezed his eyes shut briefly. "But Master..."   
   
"Pet. Do you honestly believe that I would think any less of you for it? That if I see you stopping up that cheeky tongue of his with your lovely prick in his mouth, that if I witness you buggering him to within an inch of his life that I would lose any amount of my respect or my love for you? Do you believe me capable of such duplicity?"  
   
"No, Master. Of course not."  
   
"Then perhaps you should do a bit of soul-searching, Pet. It's okay to switch things up every now and then. It won't change who you are. It won't change the way I feel about you. It won't change us, my love. Nothing could change that."  
   
John nudged Mycroft with his thigh. He jolted slightly, obviously lost in his own thoughts. "Think of it this way. You top Sherlock, really let your inner beast out on him. Then Greg steps in and wrestles you back into submission. Think about how mind-blowing that would be for him, My."  
   
Mycroft blushed fiercely before snorting delicately. "My inner beast is a lap-cat, John."  
   
John grinned brightly. "Even lap-cats have claws, and can turn quite nasty over territory disputes, sweetheart." He paused, his brow crinkling in thought. "Think of Sherlock as a newcomer to your happy little home. He sees how comfy you are on Gregory's lap, and he wants it all for his own. So when he comes sniffing around, with those big blue eyes and fuzzy black fur, what are you going to do?"  
   
Greg chuckled. "I'll tell you what you'll do. You'll knock that impudent little furball off the sofa and then you'll show him what's what. Put him in his place, Pet." He reached out to tug on the collar, and Mycroft moaned quietly. "You show him that he belongs to you, and that you belong to me. And then, oh... Pet. Then I'll just have to reward you, won't I?"  
   
 _"Ngh."_  Mycroft leant over John desperately as Greg pulled him in closer, mashing their mouths together hard. When they pulled apart, both were breathing heavily, with reddened lips and heavy, lust-filled eyes.  
   
John squirmed as Greg's eyes raked over his supine form lasciviously. He trailed his hand down his body slowly, lifting one finger to trace along the underside of his cock, now fully erect and leaking copiously. Greg dragged two fingers through his lover's pre-come and lifted them to Mycroft's lips. His Pet's eyes fluttered in ecstasy as he drew the digits into his mouth, delicately swirling his tongue around to lap it all up.  
   
"I think that John should get a treat for being so very clever, don't you, Pet?" Mycroft licked his lips and nodded eagerly. "Not that - not yet. Oh, don't look so sad. You'll get your fill of that gorgeous cock, just not yet." Greg tilted his head and smiled wickedly. "No, he'll get what he was begging for earlier."  
   
John frowned slightly. "I don't recall begging for anything, Gregory."  
   
"Not with your voice, no. Your body, however..." He reached up and unwound the chain from his wrists. "Hands and knees, love." John blinked rapidly, but complied, rolling over and stretching before lifting himself up on all fours. "Oh, that's nice." Greg ran his hand down John's spine, smiling as he arched into his touch. "Yes, that's lovely." He pulled away before he reached his backside, however, and John frowned slightly, turning his head to try and catch a glimpse of what his lover might be up to. He didn't get the chance, as Greg's hand suddenly came down on his right arse-cheek hard. John jerked and let out a startled yelp, but quickly followed it up with a breathy moan. "Yes, just as I thought."  
   
With that, Greg settled into a steady pattern of open-handed strikes, laying them down on firm cheek and muscular thigh with abandon. John spread his legs and settled onto his elbows after the fourth blow, attempting to muffle his low cries with his teeth buried in his bottom lip. Somewhere after the tenth strike, his arms could no longer hold him up and he simply fell forward, mashing his face into the mattress. Mycroft swiftly crawled up the bed and sat cross-legged against the headboard, pulling John's head into his lap. John whimpered quietly as Mycroft ran his fingers through his tawny hair, but not once did he attempt to pull away from Greg or safeword.  
   
He just took it, like the stolid little soldier that he was, and somewhere within the flurry of blows, he sighed heavily into Mycroft's thigh as his body shuddered slightly then relaxed completely. When his legs wobbled dangerously, threatening to give out, Greg finally stopped, his own breathing laboured, his cock standing out stiff and proud. John hummed vaguely as Greg shifted on the mattress and took his head in his hands, completely lost in a stupor of endorphins. "Oh, yes. There you are, my love. Such a good lad, aren't you?"  
   
John grinned at him weakly, panting out short breathy moans as his body trembled uncontrollably. "I adore you. You know that, right?"  
   
Greg chuckled. "I do." He winked at Mycroft and tilted his head downward. "Go soothe his hurts, Pet." Mycroft blushed and licked his lips, grabbing a pillow and swiftly rummaging in the bedside table drawer before crawling down to John's backside. Greg took his lover's head into his lap, and John shifted slightly, pressing a kiss to his thigh before blowing a gentle breath over his bollocks.

Greg shivered and watched as Mycroft arranged the pillow under John's hips so he could take the pressure off of his knees. He unwound the chain from his ankles, carefully spreading John's legs before tucking his body up in between, laying his cool hands on his inflamed flesh of his arse. John hissed in a short breath, but let it out on a soft sigh as Mycroft's hands gently rubbed soothing lotion into the backs of his thighs and on the upturned globes of his cheeks, nearly glowing with heat.

He made an altogether different sort of noise as Mycroft ran his thumbs along the crack of his arse, miraculously untouched from Greg's beating. Mycroft hummed as he pulled his cheeks apart, grinning as a gentle puff of air made John's hole twitch spasmodically. When the body under his hands had relaxed again, Mycroft leant in to press an open-mouthed kiss on the pink pucker, letting his tongue dart out to touch it gently. John moaned unabashedly and swiftly pushed himself back onto his knees, ignoring the tightness of his swollen flesh and the quivering in his limbs as he spread his legs even further and rolled his hips back into Mycroft's mouth. Greg's Pet responded with enthusiasm, pushing his tongue deep into the delicious arsehole that had already been nicely opened for his ministrations by his Master's lovely thick cock.  
    
"Jesus, love..." John panted quietly as he shoved himself harder into Mycroft's face, rolling his hips in a continuous motion and grinding down into him. He gasped and moaned and spit out random curses as Greg's Pet worked at him steadily, letting out his own noises of desire and satisfaction as he licked and nibbled and - oh - sucked, sucked so deep. 

Greg grinned as he reached out to caress John's face. "I said so, din't I? I told you just how wonderful and filthy and beautiful he was, but you just had to see for yourself, din't ya?"

Mycroft hummed quietly as he came up for air, wiping at his damp chin with one hand as he turned glowing eyes on his Master. "I can taste you in him, Master. So deep inside, oh, it's positively scrumptious." He dove back in, his eyes rolling back in his head as John let out another stark cry of pure pleasure.

There was a faint growl from behind as John tried to pull away, a snarl of possessiveness and a fierce hold on his inflamed arse-cheeks. "Love, you've got to pull him off of me, I'm not gonna last oh my God..."

"Pet. Stop."

Mycroft whined unhappily, but he withdrew as he was commanded, still holding tight to his captive as he tucked himself in closer to his body and went up on his knees, laying his cheek down on John's spine as he clutched at him. "Oh, but Master..."

"I know you want him to finish in your mouth, Pet, not waste it on the sheets."

_"Oh!"_  Mycroft pulled away and started to push at John's body impatiently, trying to get him to roll over on his back. 

The smaller man collapsed onto his side, nearly overcome with breathless giggles. "Wait, sweetheart. I'll need a moment if you don't want me popping off the second you wrap that magnificent mouth of yours around me." He bit his lip as he reached up to cup Mycroft's face, bringing him down for a gentle kiss that swiftly turned into something utterly filthy as he licked all around his jaw and chin, tasting himself on that creamy skin. "So beautiful, God. No, first I want to watch our dear Gregory sink balls-deep into that fine arse of yours, want to watch as he starts to take you nice and hard. Then I'm gonna come back around and fuck your face for a little bit. How does that sound?"

_"Nghk."_  Mycroft's body seized slightly as his eyes rolled back in his head, and he moaned as John pulled his face down into his chest briefly, squeezing him tight. "Oh yes oh sweet bleeding Christ, please..."

"Yeah, I know. Me too, sweetheart."   

"Please, oh please." Mycroft pulled away and turned beseeching eyes on his Master before going up on his knees and then prostrating himself by planting his face in the mattress. He dipped his spine and wriggled his arse impatiently, muffling his moans as the other two men in the bed laughed at him quietly. He moaned again as he felt motion in the mattress, resolutely keeping his eyes closed as they both migrated toward his backside, held up so invitingly for them. Then two sets of hands were on him, two pairs of lips, kissing either cheek gently before teeth were applied delicately. Quiet murmurs of appreciation, firm taps on the base of the plug, and then fingers grasping at the edges, rotating and pushing and pulling.

Mycroft's spine locked for a moment, and the two men froze until he was able to regain control of his traitorous body. Then those fingers, his Master's, no doubt - began to pull a little more insistently, and Mycroft bore down on the plug until it was worked loose from his arse and placed aside on the bedside table. John's fingers were the first to dip inside him, his characteristic _'Jeezusss'_ all too unmistakeable to Mycroft's ears. He squirmed delightfully as his Master's fingers joined them, as they both tangled together and pushed inside him deep. He turned his face to the side to aid in breathing and let out a wanton moan as somebody poked at his prostate with near-deadly precision.

"Please..." Mycroft stretched his arms over his head and pushed against the headboard. "Master, please. I need to feel you inside me." Two separate and yet similar groans drifted through his ears and down into his belly, making his body shudder violently. _"Please."_ He felt the sob beginning to rise in his chest and fought it down, losing his battle as John shifted slightly and reached up to run his fingers through his hair. 

"Oh, _sweet_ heart..." John's voice, quiet and sympathetic, going delightfully stern as it was turned on his lover. "Gregory, that's quite enough teasing."

Greg grunted quietly as he reached for the lube, slicking himself up without hesitation. "He's playing you, love. He's not truly that desperate. Not just yet." Mycroft bit his lip and winked up at John's disbelieving face, heaving a silent sigh of relief as the smaller man just shook his head with a slight roll of the eyes. "But that's all right, because I know you're eager enough for a bit of a show. Come back down here, I want you to hold him open for me."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg's Pet finds himself in the middle of a glorious predicament...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet smutty fluff, a bit more filth to follow, and then the chapter after that we'll see Sherlock coming back into the story!
> 
> Please do comment - it sincerely does help to keep me going...

John hastened to comply, swiftly crawling back down in the bed and grasping hold of both of Mycroft's cheeks hard, holding them apart as Greg prodded at his hole with the head of his cock. He continued to tease him ruthlessly as John huffed out an astonished breath, the gust of it washing over his sensitive flesh. Mycroft let out an indeterminate noise of need and frustration, once more burying his face in the mattress. His Master hummed and took hold of the base of his prick, smacking it gently against his loosened arsehole and then running it up and down the crease a few times, laughing quietly as his Pet squirmed and moaned mindlessly underneath him. 

He felt John's fingers trembling where they were holding him fast, his own need being blissfully ignored by their mutual lover. "Greg, please."

Greg laughed again, nearly high on the power that both of them were blithely handing over to him. "Oh, there we go. Now you're both desperate for it, aren't you?" Then no more teasing, no more hesitation as he slipped the head of his cock just inside his Pet's sweet little pucker, holding himself still as that delightful body spasmed around him. "Oh, my lovely little human Pet, my sweet Mycie. Oh, you do your Master proud, you make him  _so_  happy..."

Mycroft groaned in exquisite agony, a hot flush racing through his body as he threw his head back in ecstasy. Greg drove into him deep, his hips making contact with John's hands as they continued to hold him open and quite horribly exposed. Mycroft groaned again as he listened to them kissing, as he felt his Master's cock jump slightly within him, as he pushed himself back hard to take in as much of him as he possibly could. Yes, oh yes. Master withdrew until just the head of his prick was still within him, almost pulling free of that first ring of muscle. He took in a deep breath and pushed forward as he let it out, driving an indistinct grunt out of his Pet's mouth. 

"Yes, love. Oh, you fill him up so beautifully - look at that gorgeous hole just taking you all in...  _Jeezus_ , yes." Another slow withdrawal, another swift thrust, and Mycroft whined at the sheer deliciousness of it. He sighed as he felt John's hands squeeze his cheeks and then release him, his fingers tracing along the straps of the harness as his Master gave him another few good, hard shoves. "Slow, Gregory. Slow and steady, my love. Don't forget that I want to watch you make him come, want to watch that poor caged cock as it dribbles again. But first you're gonna let me get off, right? Let me come in his mouth, down his throat, oh, let me get off and give your dear pet the taste that he's been dying for all night."

"Oh, yes, my love. Go on, ram that lovely prick of yours down his throat. Feel how easily he takes it, how much he craves having that meat in his mouth." Mycroft yelped as his Master delivered a swift smack to one arse-cheek. "Such a filthy little cocksucker my gorgeous Pet is. Just loves to have his face fucked nice and hard, in't that right?" 

"Ah! Yes, Master. I love nothing more - please, John. Oh, _please_..."

"Oh sweet Christ." John was panting heavily as he crawled back up to his head, and Mycroft swiftly pushed himself up on his elbows, mouthing eagerly at the head of his prick as he knelt before him, getting himself situated as quickly as he was able. With barely any preamble, he went up on his knees and began to move, gently at first and then at a quicker pace, holding Mycroft's head steady as he thrust into that willing wet heat. Greg easily picked up on his rhythm, timing his own strokes so that he pushed his Pet's face deeper into John's groin as he moved forward. 

Mycroft moaned low in his chest and clenched down hard with his arse, his eyes rolling back at the exquisite sensations of being pushed and pulled in every conceivable direction, being used absolutely beautifully between these two magnificent men. Oh God, yes, finally being able to feel John's hardness on his tongue, the sweet curve of his length dragging the head over his soft palate and down into his throat, almost catching on his uvula, oh yes. God, when he would finally be able to take him in his arse, that curve would be his ruin, he just knew it. As marvellous as the thickness of his Master's cock was, he often had to angle it just right to hit that spot, to milk the come out of him by striking at his prostate quite deliberately. Whereas John's cock - oh, it would find that spot every damn time, wouldn't it?

He almost laughed at himself. Yes, he was a born cocksucker - had known exactly what to do the very first time he had one in his mouth, knew how to please just about any man. But it appeared that John had been born simply to fuck, to pleasure his past and present partners with nothing more than this beautiful instrument that was even now being shoved into his face, down his throat. He took in a solid breath from his nose and began to swallow rhythmically, smirking internally as John let out a blistering curse and Greg laughed heartily, making his cock quiver inside him. Mycroft moaned throatily and swallowed again. 

"Jesus motherfucking  _Christ_  is he even real oh my God I would have tossed my cookies by now..."

Mycroft rolled his eyes as he continued to contract his throat around the head of John's prick, almost giggling at the smug tone in his Master's voice. "I told you, love. Din't I tell you? His mouth is a marvel." He gave him a good hard thrust, shoving all the way in and grinding his hips in a large circle. " _Unh_. Fuck yes, my beautiful sweet Pet is an utter miracle."

Mycroft moaned again, his eyes opening wide as John's fingers tangled in his hair and pulled his head back, forcing his mouth open slightly. "Ah - ah hahh..." He fought to seal his lips over that lovely prick again, and John helped him, closing his free hand around his chin and pushing up. His slate-blue eyes absolutely burned into him as he continued to fuck his mouth, his gaze almost unbearably intense. Mycroft whimpered slightly as he saw the beginnings of his orgasm swirling deep in his eyes, the delightful flush that was rising in his cheeks and cascading down his chest. He felt his Master come to a slow stop behind him, still buried deep, but watching with just as much rapt attention as John's mouth opened slightly, as his steady litany of 'fuck _fuck_ ohfuck _yes_ fuck' segued into a wordless groan of relief, as he drove his hips and his prick deep, as he twitched hard and came even harder, pouring all that he had into the eager mouth that was locked around him. 

Mycroft felt his whole body twitch as that first bittersaltysweet taste exploded on his tongue, as that thick pearly fluid coated his mouth and began to drip down his throat. His eyes rolled back and he jerked again, hard. His Master growled behind him and then he felt his hand grasp at the straps of the harness he was wearing, pulling him away from John and up onto his knees. Master pushed in deep and held himself there, shaking him slightly. "Hold on, Pet. John, he's close, love. I can feel it." 

" _Ungh_ , shit." Mycroft opened dazed eyes as John crowded in close, as he tilted his chin down to look him in the face. "Fucking fantastic, My. Christ, but you're a treasure." He wiped up the tiny bit of come that had dribbled out of Mycroft's mouth and down his chin, sticking his fingers into his own mouth with a little moan. "Fuck yes, love. Go on then, fuck him hard, make him come. I want to see." He stuck his hand down between Mycroft's spread thighs, giving his bollocks a nice firm tug before wrapping his hand around the cock-cage. 

Mycroft blinked as John's slate-blue eyes darted from his face to the cock that was imprisoned in metal, cradled in his hand, watching avidly as his Master grunted behind him and pushed in hard. He let out a lusty moan as the head of that glorious cock dragged over his prostate only to be shoved in hard once again. "Master..."

"Oh _yes_ , my Pet."

John went up on his knees slightly to capture Mycroft's bottom lip in his teeth, biting down gently before withdrawing, his eyes still bouncing from his face to his prick. "Was it that first taste, My? Is that what got you so close? Feeling my hard cock jump on your tongue, feeling it spurt down your throat? Sweet baby Jesus, you felt so good around me, next time I'm gonna let you take your time, really savour it and taste me proper. Or was it being used like the beautiful little tart that you are, getting filled up - getting fucked nice and hard at both ends like a dirty slut?" Mycroft felt his breath catch in his throat as his skin flushed with heat, the little swirl of pleasure-pain centred in his belly starting to expand outward through his limbs. John grinned wickedly and tugged on the cock-cage hard. "Oh yes. Such a whore for your dear Master, willing to spread yourself open to just anybody that he chooses for you..."

Mycroft suddenly held his breath as his body jerked hard again, his eyes rolling back as he continued to twitch and shudder. Master let out a sharp cry as his internal muscles clenched down hard, his bound cock jumping and dribbling once again. Mycroft forced his eyes open, wanting to watch John as he watched him come, wanting to see his beautiful deep sea-blue eyes wide with wonder and delight. He smiled faintly as John blinked up at him rapidly, his hand closing tight over the cage as a meagre amount of come trickled out into his palm. Mycroft let out a heady sigh even as Master growled incoherently, holding his body to him tight.

"John." He tossed his silver head. "To the side. Quickly." John blinked again and put his hand to his mouth, licking up the small amount of Mycroft's release, but he did as he was told, shifting to the other side of the mattress. Greg didn't hesitate to shove Mycroft back down again, holding tight to the collar as he bent over him and fucked him hard and fast, grimacing as his Pet let out quiet grunting moans at every swift thrust. "Fuck yes, my darling slut. Just for me and my pleasure, in't that right? Better watch out, 'cause I'm gonna use you all up, fuck this sweet tight arse until it's loose and -  _ungh_  - dripping with my come oh JesusGod _fuck_..."

"Master..." Mycroft moaned long and low as his lover tightened his grip on the collar and shoved himself in closer, pulsing and spurting oh so deep into him. He writhed mindlessly underneath him, clenching down hard with all that he had just to feel him jump once again and listen to him as he let out a string of colourful curses. 

John laughed quietly beside them, reaching out to run his hand down one of Mycroft's thighs, squeezing gently. "Good one, hm, my love?"

"Oh fuck, yes." Greg let his grip on the collar loosen, pressing warm kisses to his Pet's back as he struggled to contain his harsh breathing. "Fucking my Pet always ends in a 'good one', you silly man. He's so lovely, how could it be otherwise?" He hummed as he straightened, grinding into Mycroft's slick arse, giving it a little smack for good measure before withdrawing. "You stay just like that, Pet. Don't move."

Mycroft moaned and folded his arms underneath his head, giving it and his arse a little shake. "Anything you want, Master."

Greg huffed out a quiet laugh, bending down to give one cheek a swift nibble and a gentle kiss. He reached out for John's hand and gave it a tug before sliding off of the bed, both of them heading for the small toilet. Mycroft tilted his head slightly at the sound of running water, realising that they were cleaning themselves up a bit. He frowned, but only in a vague, half-hearted manner. That was usually his job, but if his Master wanted him to stay, then stay he would.

He hummed quietly to himself, swaying his hips slightly as he felt out the various aches, the glorious tiny little pains that proved just how wonderfully he had been used. John's taste was lingering on his tongue and in the back of his throat, and he closed his eyes in order to savour it a bit more mindfully. It wasn't quite as acidic as his Master's tended to be, and maybe even a bit sweeter... He opened his eyes when he felt motion in the bed once again, looking up into John's smiling face. 

Mycroft smiled in return, and reached out to caress his knee. "Have you by chance been consuming more fruit than usual lately?"

John burst out into startled laughter, his cheeks going quite red. "Damn Holmeses. Maybe I just wanted to make sure your first taste was a particularly pleasant one, sweetheart." 

"Completely unnecessary, John. Next time I would far prefer to taste you as you usually are."

Greg laughed quietly as he ran his fingers up the insides of Mycroft's quivering thighs. "As long as you make sure he hasn't consumed any curry in the previous twenty-four hours, you should be golden, Pet." John let out a snort of disbelief. "Our good doctor is normally very tasty, but not quite as sweet as you, my love."

John hummed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Our dear Gregory was boasting of your sweetness while we were cleaning up - I was hoping I might have a sample myself?" Mycroft's fingers dug into the bedclothes as his Master began to lick at him delicately, running his tongue over the various trails of come that had been slowly trickling down his bollocks and wending along his inner thighs. "Would you like that, My?"

"If it would please Master."

Master tugged at his hips and guided him into rolling over on his back, carefully unbuckling the strap on the harness that had been attached to the cock-cage. Then he took the chain from around his neck and held up the key. "I need to know that it would please you as well, Pet. I wouldn't set you free unless it was something you truly desired."

Mycroft reached up to run his fingers over John's lips, smiling as the smaller man swiftly captured his hand and deftly sucked three fingers in deep, swirling his tongue around the digits with a low hum. "Yes, Master. I will happily supply either of you with as much of me as you want."

Greg chuckled and gestured John a bit closer. "You'll want to watch this, love." He turned the tiny key in the padlock and slipped it off, quickly looping it onto the chain to prevent either lock or key from going missing. Holding the cage firmly to Mycroft's body, he flipped the ring open and then slid the whole thing off in one smooth motion. Both of the men watching gasped as Mycroft's prick filled with blood, springing up underneath their careful observation. "God, I love that."

John giggled slightly and instantly reached down to wrap his hand around it, giving it a gentle squeeze. He'd had occasion to see it before, but feeling it was something else entirely, of course. "Lovely. Just as long as Sherlock's, just a tad thicker." He turned sparkling eyes on Mycroft's bashful face. "It's beautiful, just like you."

"Thank you, John."

"Oh no, sweetheart. Thank _you_ for allowing me this."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The evening winds down for our trio...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't quite wait to post another chapter almost immediately because I have, like, zero self-control. But that's all right, right? 
> 
> Mmm, such dirty things my boys are... *sigh* Oh, yes... 
> 
> Next chapter will see Sherlock and Mycroft spending a bit of *ahem* quality time together...
> 
> Please comment, my lovelies - keep the muse fed!
> 
> *mwah*

Mycroft bit his lip as his Master's hand joined John's briefly, running his palm over his bollocks and the length still held within his lover's grasp. Then he shifted on the mattress, making a neat pile of pillows up against the headboard and propping himself up on them. With a little wink at both of his lovers, Greg reached out a hand and tugged on his Pet's collar, crooking one finger in a come-hither gesture that Mycroft hastened to obey. He crawled up his Master's body and settled down in his lap, eagerly licking and nipping at his lips as John followed, tucking his smaller body up close to his back.

Mycroft threw his head back in utter bliss as two pairs of hands started to wander over his body, tracing along and under the leather straps of the harness, pinching at his nipples and scraping along his ribs. Teeth and lips and tongues teasing at his throat and along his shoulders, fingers dipping lower and lower still, until his Master had reached behind and slid one, no, two, directly into his loose, slick hole, and John had slipped his hand around to his front, grasping his cock and stroking it slowly. He let out a high-pitched whine, wanting more, wanting it harder and faster, but also wanting it to last and knowing that it wouldn't. Not if they were to keep him pressed so close between them like this, oh no.

He didn't dare to push away from his Master, so he instead reached for John's wrist, squeezing it gently. John understood and immediately capitulated, quickly backing away from him. Master blinked lazily as his Pet continued to writhe on his fingers, rolling his hips and taking him in deeper. "Pet - din't you like what John was doing?"

"T-too much so, unfortunately."

"Ah." With a crooked and horribly endearing grin, Master withdrew and pushed at his shoulders briefly. "Turn around, settle down on your back. We're gonna let him have his fun, yeah?"

"Oh, yes, Master." Mycroft shuffled backwards and slid off of his Master's legs, waiting for him to open them for him before propping himself up against his lovely warm body. He wriggled against the cock pressed into his lower back and also spread his legs wide, gasping with surprise as Master reached down to grasp him under the knees, holding him open and utterly exposed to the good doctor's greedy gaze.

John licked his lips lasciviously and Mycroft had to giggle a little at the look in his eyes. "Oh, you're so good to me, my love. Laying your Pet out for me like a gorgeous banquet..."

"Feast on him, my love. Some sweets for my sweet on his birthday..." They all giggled happily as John advanced on his hands and knees, clasping Mycroft's face in both hands and kissing him utterly cross-eyed. Greg's Pet moaned quietly as the smaller man withdrew, shifting downward slightly and bestowing tiny little kisses and wicked little nibbles on random spots all along his torso, spending so long fiddling with and tonguing at his nipples that Mycroft was squirming quite uncontrollably well before the time he was tired of playing with them.

John laughed quietly and scooted down on his belly, looking up with such delight in his eyes that Mycroft simply had to coo at him mindlessly, running the fingers of one hand along his jaw while fiddling with his soft, tawny hair with the other. Master hummed quietly from underneath him, nosing around his hairline at the nape of his neck, making him shiver deliciously. John quickly became distracted by the o-ring around his navel once more, flicking a fingernail against the metal, sniffing it, shoving his nose in there good and hard, taking in a long, solid breath and letting it out in one swift woosh. He chuckled in response to Mycroft's ticklish giggles, darting in to lick at that sweet little button again and again as his poor victim wriggled and writhed underneath him.

Something shifted in his face suddenly, a tender gravitas taking hold of his features as he paused and looked up at his lover's Pet, tilting his head and rubbing his cheek against his creamy inner thigh. Mycroft took in a short breath as his heartbeat fluttered in his chest, reaching out to trace the smaller man's golden eyebrow with his thumb.

"John?"

He hummed and wriggled even further down, pressing his nose into the ginger curls surrounding Mycroft's prick and gusting a hot breath over his bollocks. Smiling faintly as he shivered under his gentle assault, he paused briefly and then looked up at them both, Greg having hooked his chin over his Pet's shoulder to watch. "Thank you, My. Not just for this - for everything. I know that it took a great deal of courage for you to offer yourself to Gregory all those months ago. You were risking rejection, not just from the man that you've loved for a very long time, but potentially from your brother as well." He mouthed at the loose flesh of his bollocks and shivered at Mycroft's low gasp for air. "Things were good before, they were very good. But you've made our lives in this home a great deal richer by simply being here, a great deal - " John licked a lazy stripe up the underside of Mycroft's cock, closing his eyes in bliss as he swept up his pre-come on his tongue and rolled it around in his mouth as if savouring a fine wine. He hummed low and slowly opened his eyes again, grinning contentedly as both of the men under his gaze moaned quietly. "Oh yes. A great deal sweeter, my precious kitten."

Mycroft's spine contorted suddenly as he let out a low, yowling mewl of sincere need, feeling his Master's cock start to stir underneath him once again, feeling the hunger for him deep in John's eyes and on the tip of his tongue, which was even now mapping all of the landmarks on his prick, all of the dips and valleys and paying quite special attention to the vein that was standing out in stark relief under the surface of his silky-smooth skin. Mycroft panted and writhed and gave the good doctor quite the aria to accompany his wicked explorations, remembering how enthusiastically his Master had responded when he had gifted him with the same ridiculous animal-like vocalisations. Just as before, though, his little pantomime swiftly segued into genuine noises of utter desire and pure want, desperate cries that rose to the vaulted ceiling and went sadly unanswered.

Master groaned as he spread Mycroft's legs a bit wider, grinding his stiff cock into his back in a slow and steady pumping rhythm as he kissed his neck, his shoulder. "Just look at that hypocritical little fucker down there. So it's all right when you torment the ever-loving hell out of someone, but it's not okay when I do it, is that right?"

John shot him a look that was full of venom but tempered with a bit of smug acknowledgement, a pompous little roll of his eyes. He shrugged idly as he wrapped one small hand around the base of Mycroft's prick, angling it toward his mouth and taking it in without any further teasing. Mycroft felt almost as though his heart had stopped, just for one bare moment, but then it skipped back into life again as he took in a harsh breath, throwing his head back against his Master's shoulder. He tried to roll his hips, to drive into that glorious mouth that was sucking at him firmly, but the grip on his legs tightened as they were pulled even further back, Master's hot breath stuttering and washing down his chest in heavy waves. He was vaguely aware of fingers worming their way under his bollocks, of a thumb being swiftly inserted, a steady rocking in and out that matched the rhythm of John's buttocks as they flexed and writhed, rutting against the mattress just as his Master was rutting against him.

Oh, they were unreal, the both of them, both of their cocks standing to attention yet again and all because of _him_ , because of the sight of him and the sounds he was making, the anticipation of making him come fuelling both of their desires. The prospect of being able to pleasure both of them yet again when he was done nearly made Mycroft reach his finish right then and there. He yowled a bit louder as John's thumb pressed in deeper, as he took him a little further into his throat and choked ever- so-slightly. Something about that sound, the sensation of his throat contracting around the head of his prick, sparked an emotion deep in his hindbrain, a primal surge of pride, of something akin to ownership. He had a fleeting sense of disappointment that it wasn't something that he could give Master, as he had never had any difficulty taking any size of cock down his throat. He could pretend, he supposed, but that wasn't the same as the real thing, oh no. Mycroft whined quietly as John did it again, taking him in just a little deeper than was obviously comfortable for him, gagging quietly but pushing through his discomfort, taking in a steadying breath through his nose as he sucked harder, and as he did - something - with his tongue and his thumb at the same moment, Mycroft suddenly felt himself release with a sharp shout that echoed around the room.

He clenched down hard as the muscles in his stomach spasmed wildly, as he grabbed hold of John's head with both hands and simply held on for dear life as the good doctor bobbed up and down furiously, milking him with his tongue and squeezing absolutely every single drop out of him. Mycroft went utterly limp as John's mouth popped off of his prick with an audible noise, and he was only dimly aware of the smaller man going up on his knees and shuffling closer, pressing his hardness into his belly as he leant over him, sharing his handily-won prize with his lover, who clutched both his Pet and John closer to him, wallowing in the feel and the smell and the taste of both of them. Then those small hands were on his face again, those tender, wicked lips on his as John chuckled quietly and licked his way into Mycroft's mouth, letting him taste himself on his tongue.

"Oh, he was right, wasn't he, little kitten-cat... You're just the sweetest Pet in the whole wide world..."

_"Guh."_ Mycroft almost sobbed at the tenderness of John's words, of the lingering adoration in his voice and deep in his eyes. "John... I, I - oh God."

There was a deep rumble behind him, as his Master reached up to run his fingers through his hair and over his shoulder. "It's all right to say it, Pet. Never think that you have to hold back on those words, my love."

He felt the truth of his Master's words deep in his heart and in his belly, but something was still holding him back, something that was fighting and clawing within him to hold fast to his emotions, to keep them bottled inside. John's eyes softened further, somehow, reading his internal battle raging on his face with ease and nodding slightly. He took hold of Mycroft's hand and squeezed it gently before bringing it up to his lips. "Together, then?" He leant forward further, placing his lips at Mycroft's ear and breathing into it delicately. Oh so softly, "Together, my sweet."

Mycroft took in one breath, and then another, tilting his head slightly so that his mouth was hovering next to John's ear. "Yes, together."

Another soft inhale from two sets of lungs, and then, "I love you," from two sets of lips.

Yes, together, almost as one, and the warmth that Mycroft felt blooming inside unfolded like a vast flower, sending tendrils of light and love all through his body. Then he let out quite an embarrassing squeak as his Master squeezed him hard from behind, startling him out of his overly emotional state quite handily. John growled happily and grabbed hold of the harness, pulling him tight into his body as he nibbled on his bottom lip, thrusting his tongue into his mouth and snogging him nearly blind. Mycroft reached out and found the good doctor's stiff prick with his questing fingers, giving it a good few swift pulls before his body was being shifted, his Master having taken hold of his hips and simply lifting him up so that he could free himself. He refused to let go of his prize as he was pushed back down, but Master grabbed hold of his arm and gave it a little shake, so then he had no choice but to release him.

He looked up in slight surprise as the two men arranged themselves on their knees on either side of his torso, John looking down with that same expression of loving adoration, Master leering quite wickedly. The silver-haired man took hold of the collar and tugged so that Mycroft rolled slightly, putting his mouth very nearly on level with his stiff prick. "Enough sweetness and light from you two. One more, Pet. John and I are both going to use this lovely mouth of yours, we're going to make one hell of a mess out of you and then I believe that we will all be ready for a bit of a rest. Love?"

John's fingers tightened on the harness and he nodded wordlessly, his eyes suddenly focusing on Mycroft's mouth as his prick jumped hard. Mycroft squealed quietly with delight and he strove to wrap his lips around his Master's girth without additional comment, but the angle wasn't quite right. Both John and Greg chuckled as he growled with frustration, and held up one finger before sitting up slightly and arranging the pillows behind his head at just the right angle. Both men shuffled a bit higher in the bed eagerly as Greg's Pet directed them, slipping his arms in between their legs so that they were more or less straddling his shoulders.

With a happy sigh, he tilted his head from side to side, catching their gazes and licking his lips. "Oh, yes, use me - take me as you wish."

Master began, of course, taking the first turn as was his right, holding fast to the collar and tugging his head to the side, sliding his stiff cock between his lips without delay. A few languid strokes and then he withdrew, keeping hold of the leather in one hand and stroking himself with the other. Mycroft turned his head with a cheeky grin, humming low as John shook his head and immediately took the same liberties that his lover had, sticking his prick in the redhead's mouth and thrusting in nice and deep. They passed quite a few pleasant minutes like that, Mycroft's face slowly becoming drenched in spit and pre-come as they used his mouth in turn and stroked themselves when not enveloped by his heat and moisture.

Mycroft swiftly descended into a hazy euphoria as he was passed back and forth, simply sealing his lips around whatever piece of flesh was thrust into his mouth and allowing them to move as they liked, whether swift and shallow or long and deep, using him to both of their satisfaction. He hummed low in his chest and gurgled happily as he was tugged one way and then the other, only becoming aware again as his Master cursed quietly above him, forcing his heavy eyelids to open, looking up into a face that had gone a lovely shade of pink. He was stroking himself furiously as he watched John's cock disappearing into his Pet's mouth, and he was quite clearly just about there. 

John withdrew and shoved him over without delay, and that gorgeous thick prick just barely made it in before it was spurting, Master groaning beautifully as he released in his mouth and over his chin and throat and chest, soiling his dear Pet as he moaned lustfully and stuck out his tongue to try and catch as much of it as he could. And then he was being ruthlessly manhandled yet again, John's hand clutching hard at the hair at the top of his head as he bent over his face and fucked him nice and hard, just as he had earlier, paying no mind to his lover as he tried to duck down, to see the action up close and personal. Mycroft hummed low in his throat and attempted to swallow, and just as he did a strangled noise of sheer delight was forced from John's mouth, and he was coming too, taking the same tack that Master had, withdrawing and aiming over face and chest to mark him quite thoroughly.

Mycroft simply laid there as they recovered their breath, sitting back on their heels and trapping his arms so that he was quite unable to move. He hummed vaguely, swirling his tongue around in his mouth and licking his lips to capture as much of their essence as he was able. They laughed at him quietly, yes they did, but it was a sound of pure joy and satisfaction, and he found himself giggling along with them, a little astonished to realise that he was completely and utterly shagged out.

"Filthy little beast."

"Your beast, Gregory."

Another quiet chuckle, a light tracing of fingers along his skin. "And yours, apparently. Your new kitten..."

John sighed as he ran his fingers through Mycroft's soft red hair. "A lovely ginger tabby. Quite the wondrous addition to the family, my love. Thank you for bringing him in from the cold." Mycroft frowned slightly and suddenly found himself battling tears once again. He had, hadn't he? He had followed his Master home, just like some stray moggie off the street and he had been kind enough to let him stay. John knew that, recognised that, and really, the collar was just a way of confirming to him that he belonged here, with his Master and his family. John sighed and slid off the bed, going for the box of tissues on the desk. He calmly wiped away some of the mess on Mycroft's face and body, bending down to kiss him on the forehead. "Welcome home, lost little pet." 

"John..."

"I know, my sweet kitten-cat. I know." Master bent down to nuzzle behind his ear briefly, bestowing the same chaste kisses to cheek and temple. John smiled at the both of them and reached out to poke at Mycroft's bellybutton once again. "Would you like me to help clean you up, my love?"

Mycroft blinked at him and shook his head slightly, holding out a hand for John to grasp. He pulled himself up with it slowly, once again shaking his head to return blood flow as the smaller man nibbled on his knuckles lightly. "I think... I think I may need a moment to myself, if that's all right."

"Of course, Pet. Take as long as you need." Master gave his bum a light pinch as he slid off the bed, startling a little yelp and happy giggle from his Pet as he retreated to the small toilet. He turned back briefly to watch as Master pulled John back into the bed, as they curled up together and shared breath, petting each other languidly in the midst of their recovery.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock pokes his head in...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just too impatient... Here we have a tender moment or two between the Holmes brothers, with just a hint of smut. 
> 
> If incest is squicky to you, you may want to look away now...
> 
> ;-p

When Mycroft came out of the small toilet after cleaning himself up a bit, it was to find John curled into his Master's side, both of the men snoring softly. There was room for him at John's back, but for some reason, that didn't feel right to him, not right now, not while he was still collared. He pulled the blanket out and shook it over them, smiling gently as his Master turned slightly, wrapping one arm around his lover and pulling him in tighter. Mycroft took one of the pillows and placed it at the foot of the bed before curling up into a small bundle, his hand sliding under the blanket to drape around Master's ankle.  
   
The other hand came up to caress the soft leather of the collar, and he felt tears streaming down his face once again. He snuffled quietly, wiping them away with the edge of the blanket. It was positively ridiculous that such a simple thing had affected him to this degree, and he was on the verge of becoming quite angry with himself. But this - oh. He had never expected that it would happen, as Master was far too kind and gentle for the idea to ever have come to fruition. But John - well, he was a different kind of man altogether. He had that same gentleness to him, yes, but far underneath there was sterner stuff, a core of pure unyielding steel. It had taken John to see, to realise that this was something that Mycroft not only craved, but actually needed. It had taken John to make it happen.  
   
When he had first thought about the possibility of entertaining his Master's lover, there had been an element of selfishness to it, because yes, John was undeniably attractive and quite fit, and it was easy to see that he could certainly be a commanding presence when he wished. But really, his primary motivation had been to please his Master. After all, he belonged to him. If Master had wanted to keep him all to himself, Mycroft would have accepted this happily. But now that these additional possibilities had opened themselves, now that Mycroft was feeling such overwhelming gratitude toward the little doctor, he almost felt that he belonged to both of them in a way. For after all, if John called, Mycroft would be there without hesitation, kneeling at his feet. He fingered the collar again. Yes, for giving him this, Mycroft would let John take absolutely anything he desired.  
   
He sighed softly and snuggled down into the mattress, breathing in steadily as he closed his eyes in sleepy surrender. They popped back open a few minutes later, and he scowled at himself. He was exhausted, he really was; all of his muscles were delightfully sore and his joints stiff. Mycroft wriggled again, cautiously feeling out every little ache and twinge, the tenderness of his bum and the lingering tang in the back of his throat. He had been used beautifully, and his body should want nothing more than a few hours of uninterrupted slumber. But it clearly wasn't going to happen. Dammit.  
   
Mycroft's frustrated sigh almost camouflaged the creak of the hinges on the door, and he shifted his posture slightly, looking up as Sherlock ducked his head into the room quietly. His quicksilver eyes skimmed over the unmoving figures in the bed and he smiled when he saw his brother laid out at their feet. Mycroft found himself smiling back, that reserved, almost shy smile that they both employed when they were truly happy, but simply had no idea what they were meant to do about it. Mycroft pulled himself up and slid off the bed gently, making quite sure not to disturb the peacefully slumbering occupants. He stood at the foot of the bed silently, watching Sherlock's eyes going wide and dark as they skittered over his body. Mycroft found that he had no urge to cover himself, that for once in his life he did not feel the need to hide away from his brother's sharp gaze. He laughed at himself internally. In _this_ ensemble, of all things...  
   
Sherlock was obviously pleased, though - not just with Mycroft's new-found confidence, but with the outfit as well. He entered the room fully, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. He leant back against the door for a moment, his intense scrutiny shifting subtly into admiration, his face softening and flushing pinkly. Sherlock's breath caught as Mycroft grinned at him sharply, and he took a couple of trembling steps toward him.  
   
"Oh, brother dear..." Mycroft hummed as Sherlock's fingers traced along the leather adorning his sternum, tensing slightly as his hand went to the collar, but relaxing as he felt the feather-light touch of his brother's fingertips along the skin just underneath. "Oh, Mycroft. You've wanted this for so long - I - I'm so happy for you."  
   
Mycroft blinked rapidly as the persistent tears threatened to start up yet again. "Thank you, Sherlock. It was John, really. He made it happen."  
   
Sherlock smiled gently, one eyebrow elevated in amusement. "He does have a way of instigating things, doesn't he?"  
   
Mycroft frowned slightly as he tilted his head. "You spoke with him, didn't you?'  
   
A quiet shrug. "I may have mentioned certain observations that I made while reviewing the Red and Wolfie footage, but I find that he can be rather clever in his own quietly manipulative way. I would not be at all surprised if he had picked up on your unspoken desires himself. I simply told him what I had observed, and left it up to him as to whether or not he would push things in a certain direction."  
   
"I am rather glad that he chose to take action." Mycroft smiled as he touched the collar. "In fact, he may have been just as excited about this as I unexpectedly found myself to be."  
   
"John very rarely fails to take action in any situation. It is one of the things that I find most intriguing about him."  
   
"And the aforementioned sneakiness, of course. It isn't often that someone is able to surprise you, brother dear."  
   
Sherlock sniffed haughtily. "Indeed."

The brothers looked to the bed as the sneaky little man in question flopped over on his back, snorting rather inelegantly as one arm was flung out across the mattress. Mycroft quirked one eyebrow before huffing out a distinguished breath of laughter. Sherlock giggled and leant in to touch his forehead to his brother's.  
   
"Mycroft..." Sherlock breathed out over his brother's lips as he traced along the leather straps of the harness, neatly avoiding touching his skin. "You are beautiful. A work of art, in fact." Mycroft's breath caught and his body went entirely still. "I am truly sorry I was so cruel to you before. I didn't know - I didn't think - I was foolish and angry and - stupid. So _stupid_..."  
   
"Shh..." Mycroft reached up to run his fingers through Sherlock's hair before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Hush, little brother. That's all past." He smiled softly as he pulled away. "In a way, it's like we're starting all over again, isn't it?"  
   
"I'll be so good to you, Mycroft. I swear."  
   
"I know, brother mine." He glanced aside again. "Just - not yet."  
   
Sherlock trembled and plucked at the buckles on the harness before nodding slightly. "Would you like some assistance in freeing yourself from this contraption?"  
   
Mycroft giggled quietly before beginning to work one wrist cuff loose. "Yes, please. It is rather silly, isn't it?"  
   
"God, no. It's stunning, Mycroft." Sherlock's eyes glittered in the half-light. "Green is quite definitely your colour." Mycroft gasped quietly as Sherlock calmly knelt in front of him, sitting back on his heels and gently lifting one of his brother's elegant feet to rest on his thigh as he unbuckled the ankle cuff. He did the same for the other foot before going up on his knees and undoing the thigh bands.  
   
Sherlock remained there a bit longer than strictly necessary, looking up at his brother, his face a study in feigned innocence. Mycroft felt his blood rushing through his body at the sight, his mind in a whirl. It was deeply disconcerting, but remarkably comforting at the same time - to be standing over Sherlock like this, like this was the way it should be. It seemed that perhaps there was something in what John had said after all... Still kneeling, Sherlock reached for the ring framing Mycroft's navel and slipped the buckles on the waist-belt free. He blinked at the sight before him for a small eternity before leaning forward and firmly pressing his lips to the dip in Mycroft's belly.  
   
Mycroft gasped as his stomach muscles jumped. "Sherlock!" He swiftly threw another glance at the two men in the bed, biting his bottom lip in an attempt to maintain the hushed atmosphere.  
   
Sherlock shrugged as he stood. "Sorry, brother dear. I could not quite contain myself."  
   
Mycroft grinned crookedly, and this time Sherlock was the one who made an undignified noise in the back of his throat. "John found himself quite enamoured with it as well, although I cannot say why."  
   
Sherlock scoffed. "Because it's adorable, that's why."   
   
Mycroft blushed as he fumbled with the last buckle. "He and Master spoke of jewellery. I think they may want me to get it pierced." Sherlock's body jerked involuntarily and Mycroft giggled quietly. "Seems you approve of the idea."  
   
Sherlock grinned easily. "They talked of submitting me to the needle as well, although it has yet to happen." He gently slapped Mycroft's hands away and took over, loosening the recalcitrant buckle with no further issues.  
   
Mycroft tilted his head. "And what was it that they wanted you to adorn, brother mine?"  
   
Sherlock blushed prettily before lifting the harness from his brother's body and carefully setting it aside on the desk. "Nipples." His body twitched again as Mycroft hummed in approval.  
   
"Perhaps we should have another family outing - a trip to the local piercing parlour. Or perhaps we should go on our own as a surprise?"  
   
Sherlock placed his fingers back on the collar, his lips twisting with humour. "Greg owns you, Mycroft. Properly, now. He might not like you taking such liberties with his property." This time it was Mycroft's body that shuddered and shivered, a throaty groan forcing its way through his lips. "The things that he suggests in the middle of play are often forgotten about in daily life, you know."

Mycroft frowned slightly, his long fingers absently caressing the collar. "I hope not everything is forgotten. He also spoke of getting me a tag..."

Sherlock blinked as he reached for the black silk robe that Mycroft had discarded earlier. "If that's something you want, you know you have but to ask." He smiled as Mycroft's eyes darted to the floor and he blushed fiercely. "Or perhaps John could remind him? Of course, you'd probably have to remind John..." Mycroft giggled again.

Sherlock walked around Mycroft and held out the robe. His brother glanced back at him obliquely before slipping his arms into the sleeves, and Sherlock found himself holding his breath as Mycroft folded the opulent fabric around himself. Sherlock slid his arms around his brother's waist, deftly knotting the tie around him from behind. Sherlock's breath shuddered as he pressed himself against his brother's body, his stiff cock throbbing against Mycroft's arse.   
   
Mycroft moaned quietly, his head rolling back to rest against Sherlock's shoulder. They stayed like that for a long while, a slow and almost unbearable tension building between the two of them. Mycroft sighed and reached behind to run a hand along the back of Sherlock's thigh. He tugged gently, and the loose fabric of his pyjama bottoms slipped low on his waist.  
   
"Sherlock..." Mycroft's voice was but a mere whisper. "I said not yet, and I meant it. But..." Sherlock moaned as his brother's hand tugged again, drawing his bottoms down even lower. "I could - watch. I'd rather like to, in fact."  
   
Sherlock pressed his forehead into Mycroft's shoulder and exhaled shakily, rolling his hips gently, just to feel his brother's body tremble at the touch. "Mycroft..."  
   
Mycroft took one of his hands and gently pulled him around to face him. Sherlock's eyes searched his face, reading the deep and aching need in his brother's eyes, attempting to rein in his own expression of naked lust and greed. Mycroft shuddered pleasantly and then steeled himself, taking his other hand. Moving slowly, deliberately, he wound his arms around his brother's waist, bringing their clasped hands to the small of Sherlock's back. Immobilised by his brother's grip on his hands, his eyes on his face, Sherlock stilled, just the hushed sound of his tortured breathing breaking the silence.

Mycroft leant in and ran his nose along the edge of a ridiculously plush bottom lip, his own lips brushing at Sherlock's chin. Moving only his head, he dipped down further, nudging slightly until Sherlock threw his head back with a sharp gasp. There was the barest brush of skin against his Adam's apple, whether nose or lips, he couldn't tell. Mycroft pressed a soft kiss to the hollow of his collarbone, his tongue flickering out like a snake's, such a light and quick taste that Sherlock almost couldn't be sure it had happened at all.  
   
With his brother pressed in so close, his own arousal was clearly evident, a lovely hard weight nudging against his own. Sherlock felt his eyes roll back in his head as Mycroft pushed him backwards gently, manoeuvring them closer to the bedside table by the door. Sherlock let himself be manipulated, eagerly following his older brother's lead. He tilted his head as Mycroft reached for something behind him and pressed it into his hand. A soft, hot breath at his ear made his entire body stiffen temporarily and he groaned aloud.  
   
"Show me, brother mine. Show me how badly you want this to happen. For _us_ to happen." Mycroft's voice, heated and sensual, drifted through his head and into his body, coiling around the root of his prick and tugging insistently. "Make me believe, Sherlock. Make me dizzy with your desire. I want to be _giddy_ with it."  
   
Mycroft stepped back as Sherlock groaned again, biting down on his lip to stifle it for fear of waking the couple entwined on the bed. He cast them a desperate sideways glance before looking down at the bottle of lube in his hand. He thought about asking to retire to another room in the flat, but the dark glimmer in his brother's eyes told him that it was here, or nowhere. It wasn't like either of his lovers disapproved of his untoward desire for his brother - if they happened to wake up in the middle of their game, they would not only approve, but likely wish to join in. Sherlock nodded slightly and ran his free hand down his body, debating on whether or not to disrobe completely.  
   
"Will - " Sherlock swallowed as his fingertips brushed lightly along the waistband of his pyjamas. "Will you be joining me?"  
   
Mycroft smirked slowly, his grey eyes glinting. "Perhaps. If you make me believe."

Sherlock let out a trembling sigh and shrugged his dressing gown off his shoulders before swiftly stripping out of his shirt. Both articles of clothing were simply dropped at his feet, and he hesitated only briefly before pushing both pyjamas and pants to mid-thigh. Mycroft's soft moan made his spine twist and he shivered deliciously. Then his brother laughed, a quiet dark chuckle that had his legs trembling. "And you call me a work of art. Pure nonsense, brother mine - for you are a Michelangelo." Sherlock's body crumpled slowly, and he followed it to the floor, slumping down onto his knees. Mycroft stepped closer briefly, running his fingers through his brother's wild curls and along the slope of his shoulder. "Carved from purest alabaster, a tribute to the Greek gods of love."  
   
Sherlock looked up at his brother, standing tall and somewhat forbidding above him. "Mycroft..."  
   
"Yes, love." Mycroft bent down and pressed a kiss to the top of his brother's head before stepping back to his former position opposite the kneeling man. He stood there for a long while, his cool grey eyes following the path that Sherlock's fingers were slowly tracing on his skin. Sherlock gasped as he pinched one nipple into a stiff peak and then trailed his fingers lower, idly playing with the little wisps of hair at the top of his pubic bone. "Yes, brother. Show me."  
   
Sherlock squeezed a bit of lube out onto his fingers and capped the bottle before putting it down on the floor between them. Mycroft smirked slightly and reached for the box of tissues on the desk, placing that next to Sherlock's offering before settling down on his own knees. He kept the black robe tucked in around his body, but Sherlock knew that was not to hide from his gaze - no, why would he, after he had already revealed himself so completely? No, it was merely his attempt to keep control of the situation, and since that was precisely what Sherlock wanted, he would not object. No matter how badly he wanted to see his brother utterly exposed before him, his flesh gorged with blood, needy and begging for his touch, he would let Mycroft lead.

Sherlock shuddered as his fingers smeared the lube around the head of his cock and down the length. Soon. It would happen soon. And in the meantime, perhaps this little performance would suffice to cool his swiftly growing ardour, to keep him from simply lunging for the man across from him and doing something rather rash and foolish. Because if he did, if he attempted to take his brother before he was ready, Mycroft would undoubtedly pull away and once again hide himself behind that stupidly ostentatious mahogany desk. He would once more become cold and remote, the British Government personified, and if that happened, well then - Sherlock might just wither away.

So Sherlock took a deep breath and centred his thoughts, drawing his attention down to one thing, the feeling of his cock in his hand, tracing the prominent vein on the top with his thumb while his fingers slid underneath, gentle and light. He traced the fraenulum with his forefinger, gasping quietly as he felt a slow trickle of moisture break away from the tip and drip down his hand.

A quiet moan from across the room caused him to open his eyes languidly. Oh, yes, that's right - Mycroft. He was doing this for his brother. With that thought, with Mycroft's cool grey eyes turned wild and dark upon him, Sherlock's spine suddenly arched and he gasped aloud. He almost felt rather than heard Mycroft's deep hum of approval, a steady susurrus of heat and sound vibrating between the two brothers, drawing them closer together without either of them moving an inch.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of introspection, and a bit of exploration...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is where it gets dirty... Woo!
> 
> I'm actually very proud of this particular bit, of the way that I tried to capture some of their inner thoughts, at least. Some feedback would be very much appreciated, as the idea of taking their relationship to this level is a bit daunting.
> 
> Thank you, my lovelies. I anticipate one more chapter, an epilogue of sorts.
> 
> Kitten-kisses to you all.

"How did this come about, Sherlock?" The youngest Holmes quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head. Mycroft sighed. "You never propositioned me when we were together at the manor, so it's safe to say that you felt no desire for me then."  
   
Sherlock scoffed quietly even as his fingers dipped lower to caress his bollocks. "I was a _child_ , Mycroft. And then you were gone." Mycroft's shoulders slumped slightly as Sherlock's gaze dropped from his face. "You left me alone. All these odd things kept happening to me and my brain wouldn't function properly and you weren't there."  
   
"Sherlock..."  
   
"I know. You did what you had to, and of course I cannot blame you for that now. But then - oh, brother - back then I wanted to flay the skin off your _bones_  for leaving me behind."  
   
Mycroft's eyes went wider and impossibly darker at his words, and Sherlock's back bowed again as he read the underlying current of dark pleasure on his brother's face, the invisible wire stretching between them thrumming with their unspoken passions. Yes, Sherlock had wanted to hurt him for his callous abandonment, and he knew that Mycroft would have willingly taken the pain to appease his little brother, to make him feel loved, feel needed. But that was then, when Sherlock had been but an angry and foolish child on the cusp of adulthood, attempting to battle his unknown and rather frightening desires with the very well-known and well-loved power of his logic. He had eventually succeeded; all that had been left behind was ash, his passions having burnt everything to cinders as he raged and flailed against the prison of his body. Oh, but it hadn't, had it? No, unbeknownst to him, there had been a flicker remaining, a tiny little flame buried deep within that protective layer of soot and grime, a whisper of 'what could be', if he just allowed himself to let go, to  _feel_.  
   
A feeble little flame that had flared back to life simply because one man had laid kind, caring, warm, oh - so very  _warm_  hands on him. One man who had looked beyond the prickly exterior, the armour of his skin and bones, who had seen the fragile heart cowering deep within and had done what he could to wrap himself around that heart and the body that housed it, offering his own protection almost as a knight vowing loyalty to his liege. Yes, one man had cracked open his own chest and had offered a piece of his strongly beating heart to Sherlock, and in his typical greedy fashion, he had swallowed it whole and then had kept coming back for more, until he had nibbled away nearly everything that Greg was. But now, oh  _now_... Now that Sherlock was whole again, he could offer in return, eagerly slicing bits and slivers off of his own metaphorical heart, letting both of his lovers take the tender flesh between their teeth from his bloodied fingers. Yes, he would feed them as he had been fed, and together they would all become fat and happy, gorged on each other's bodies and minds. How absurd it all seemed now, when scarcely a year ago he would have dismissed the very idea as beyond the realm of imagining.  
   
How absurd now, to think that he would happily tear his heart into shreds and plate half of it on a silver platter to give to his brother, the man for whom he had harboured such a fierce hatred, such resentment for so long. Misguided, wrong - how could he have been so  _wrong_? Sherlock shook his head slightly as a faint aroma wafted into his consciousness, a lingering scent of something achingly familiar, something that he had been seeking for an unknown number of years. Something vague and ethereal that resolved itself into the form of his brother, as he laid cool hands on his fevered flesh, on his brow and the nape of his neck.  
   
Sherlock gasped as Mycroft settled down on his knees behind him, running both hands through his hair and down his back. "There you are, brother mine. Went on a little walkabout, didn't you? How are the long and echoing corridors of your Mind Palace this evening?"  
   
"Cold. Empty." He let his head fall forward as Mycroft's hands reversed their path, travelling up his back, through his hair, raking the curls upward, against the grain of the sensitive follicles. Sherlock gasped again as gooseflesh popped out all over his body and he shivered deliciously. His erection had waned during his inward journey, but it twitched back to life as Mycroft continued to stroke him gently.  
   
"What were you looking for?"  
   
"You, of course."  
   
"Ah." Sherlock smiled as he heard the faint amusement colouring his brother's tone. "And did you find me?"  
   
"Not exactly." He moaned softly as Mycroft traced the delicate curl along the edges of his ears with the tips of his fingers. "The Mycroft that I locked away - he isn't you any more. He was from before." Sherlock shivered again as the sleeves of his brother's silken robe trailed over his naked flesh. Mycroft paused in his gentle exploration, and Sherlock answered his unspoken question. "Before Greg. He - he's made you a better man."  
   
"I know." Mycroft leant his forehead into the space between his brother's shoulder blades, and Sherlock abruptly squeezed the base of his prick hard to stop from coming at nothing more than the glorious dichotomy of cool fingers on his scalp and hot breath ghosting down his spine. Mycroft hummed as he lifted himself slightly, watching Sherlock's hand moving on his prick from over his shoulder. He trailed one elegant hand down his brother's arm, letting his fingers hover - oh so close, but not touching - over the head of his cock briefly before running them along Sherlock's forearm.

"Tease." Mycroft chuckled darkly at his younger brother's strangled tone.

"You still haven't told me, Sherlock. What brought this about? What was the key that unlocked the vault labelled 'Mycroft Holmes'?"

Sherlock grunted quietly. "Close. Oh God..."

Mycroft tugged on his hair with one hand and scraped his nails along his arm with the other, bringing him back from the brink with a sharp gasp. "Tell me, brother." He hissed in his ear. "Tell me!"

"Your smell... Oh Jesus, the  _smell_  of you, it makes me weak..."

"Just as I thought." Mycroft released his hold on Sherlock's hair and plucked up the vest that he had discarded when he had arrived earlier that evening. He had been eagerly anticipating this evening's festivities and, much to his personal dismay, had been perspiring quite profusely throughout the day. Mycroft gave the thin cotton a brief sniff, but could find nothing at all appealing in the aroma. But then, scent was by no means his strongest sense, no; that had always fallen strictly into Sherlock's purview. His little brother could be quite the human bloodhound when he fixated on something. Bunching the material in his hand, he brought it to Sherlock's nose and smiled as he inhaled deeply with a low moan. He held it to his brother's face as his body jerked hard, once, twice, his eyes rolling back in his head as he came profusely.

Mycroft wrapped his free arm around Sherlock's torso, holding him through every jolt and shudder, whispering gentle encouragements as he blinked himself back into awareness. He bit his lip as Sherlock writhed against him languidly, and pressed the vest into his clean hand as he kissed the back of his neck.

"Keep it, brother mine. A memento, if you like."  
   
Sherlock writhed again, and Mycroft hissed quietly as the silk of his robe dragged across his sensitive flesh. "Do it, brother dear. Rub off on me, please... I want to be bathed in you."

Mycroft clutched at his shoulders for support as his head swam alarmingly. "Sherlock... I just - "

Sherlock turned his body slightly and turned a half-hearted glare on his brother before reaching for a tissue. "Mycroft, for God's sake. You just held me through a quite spectacular orgasm, which was triggered by your dirty under-things, by the way. It has clearly gone beyond the bounds of what most would consider proper behaviour. What just happened  _was_  sex, brother mine, with the exception that one of the participants has yet to come. Was I that unbelievable? Did I not make you giddy, just as you asked of me?" He binned the soiled tissue and brought Mycroft's vest back up to his nose, his body shuddering as he inhaled deeply once again. "God, yes." He shook his head as if to clear it. "I'm not asking to suck you, and I'm not asking you to fuck me."

Mycroft took in a deep breath. "No, you're asking me to spend myself on your skin."

"Yes, I want to feel it. Preferably, I'd like to see it as well, but I know that's asking a bit much of you at this stage." Sherlock turned his back to him once again, squaring his shoulders as he shook his curls imperiously.  
   
Mycroft moaned quietly at the long expanse of flawless pale skin that was being presented to him. He found himself leaning forward slightly, his nose coming perilously close to burying itself in the nape of his little brother's neck. He inhaled sharply, letting the exhale ruffle dark curls and Sherlock's head instantly dropped forward, a heady moan echoing through the room. Mycroft shivered, because that sound, oh yes - for his hearing was the sharpest of his senses, and good Lord that sound went straight to his prick. With a small growl, Mycroft wrapped both arms around his brother and clutched his body to him tightly.  
   
Sherlock sighed softly even as he trembled violently. He tilted his head back against Mycroft's shoulder and wriggled enticingly, ignoring his shortness of breath as his brother tightened his grip on his bare torso even further. "What - what do you w-want? You do know th-that I would give you - any-anything."  
   
Mycroft growled again, running his nose over Sherlock's carotid artery, pulsing heavily against the thin skin of his neck. "I want it  _all_ , baby brother. Every bit of you is mine, has always been mine. I want to invade you, Sherlock, pull all of your strings from the inside. I want to take you into me, feel as you shiver yourself into nothingness just so I can piece you back together again, the way I always have. I want to wring the most ungodly sounds from your throat, brother mine, I want to hear your cries echoing in my head for the rest of time. God, I want to paint you with my seed and blood and slice you open and feast on you. Jesus fucking  _Christ_ , I want to consume you the way you've consumed me." Mycroft hissed in his ear even as he bit down on the lobe viciously. "Everything that you are, everything that you will be.  _Mine_ , Sherlock. All mine."  
   
"Oh God, Mycroft - brother. P-please." Sherlock's tremors swiftly transitioned into full-body shudders as his brother's words snaked down his spine.  
   
Mycroft hummed in his ear, low and wicked. "And you want it too, don't you?"  
   
"Yes, God yes. Give it to m-me. Everything. I w-want to take, I want to be t-taken by you.  _Please_."  
   
"Not. Yet." Mycroft dug his nails into Sherlock's sides as he shifted his grip. "I still need time, brother dear. I need..."  
   
Sherlock took in a deep breath as his brother's hold lessened, and then another, attempting to bring his wildly careening heartbeat back under control. "Greg. You need Greg to be there for our first time."  
   
Mycroft dropped his forehead onto Sherlock's shoulder, his breath shuddering down his back. "I need him to anchor me, Sherlock. You don't understand - the feelings that I have for you... I could get swept away so easily. I could lose myself in you, little one. I need him to be there to pull me back if necessary."  
   
Sherlock reached behind himself with one hand, stroking Mycroft's knee awkwardly. "I understand. But there's no reason you can't relieve some of your tension. You don't even have to touch me, brother. Just - " He shivered delicately as Mycroft's fingers ran idly over his ribcage. "Just come on me. Please."  
   
" _Why_ , Sherlock?"  
   
"I want - oh God. I want you to mark me, brother. Please, make me smell of you."

Sherlock hissed quietly as Mycroft's fingers clutched at him involuntarily, once again digging his nails into his flesh hard. Once his vision had cleared, the elder Holmes shook his head a bit, his eyes focusing on the rigidity of his brother's spine, the elegant curve of his neck as his head once more fell forward, exposing the nape to him in an overt invitation.  _Not_  touch him? Impossible. Mycroft took in a deep breath and shifted slightly, settling down on his heels in a more comfortable position. Hardly even daring to think on what he was about to do, he lifted his left hand and placed it on that long neck, squeezing gently before running the palm all the way down, twisting his wrist so that the backs of his fingers trailed along his brother's skin as he brought his hand back up.

Sherlock gasped, and Mycroft smirked slightly to see the myriad bumps rise on his pale skin, following the tracks he had left behind. He hummed and leant in a little closer, indulging the fancy he had entertained earlier, burying his nose in the curls at the back of his brother's head, breathing him in deeply. The moan that they both let out was so similar to his ears that Mycroft had to laugh, just a little. The same - they were the  _same_ , just as Sherlock had said all those weeks ago, when he had brought the lingering tension between the two of them into stark relief, had made his feelings of desire perfectly clear and had left his older brother to puzzle and agonise over his own. Two halves of one broken creature, the rift between them traversed, the wound that had been inflicted so many years ago beginning to knit at the edges. And now, with this, a hesitant and gentle intimacy growing between them, the first step toward true healing had finally begun.

What manner of creature would they be once they had finally joined again? Mycroft pondered carefully as he continued to pet his baby brother aimlessly, running his fingers over the curve of muscle and tendon, tugging gently on curls both above and below, digging his nails into flesh briefly just to listen to him take in a shuddering gasp for air. There would be an understanding between them, he knew that. Something so basic and primal, a knowledge so fundamental to both of their incredible minds that they might as well be one. Something lightweight and carefree, a return to youth, when Sherlock had done all he could to impress his older brother, when Mycroft had done all he could to hold that tiny body tight and strive to protect him with all that he had in him. They had only had each other in those days, had depended on each other for love and affection and it had been right, it had been good. Until he had ruined it all with his own vague fears, focusing too strenuously on 'what could be' rather than 'what was'. Mycroft had been too afraid of his own emotions, and rather than allowing Sherlock to make his own decisions, had simply taken the choice away from his younger brother by walking away from him.

Sherlock tensed in front of him suddenly, as if hearing the tenor of his thoughts. "Mycroft..."

"Hush, little one. Be silent, be still." Mycroft put his fingers to his brother's mouth, smiling as his tongue darted out to lick at them briefly. "Do not move, and do not speak, brother mine." He took in a deep breath and reached out his right hand at Sherlock's side, wriggling his fingers in a wordless demand. With another heady gasp and low moan, his younger brother took up the bottle of lube and placed it in his palm, closing his long fingers around Mycroft's hand for just a moment. Then he pulled away and folded his hands in his lap, clearly settling in to wait as long as necessary. Mycroft very nearly laughed again, for although Sherlock was holding himself as still as he possibly could, there was an involuntarily tremor quivering up his spine that almost made him seem like an over-eager canine, waiting for someone to throw a toy for him to fetch. If he had a tail, it would be wagging quite uncontrollably.

And yet -  _he_  was the one wearing the collar... Mycroft snickered silently even as he trailed his fingers through the gap in his robe, rolling and pinching one nipple into a stiff peak, clutching the bottle of lube a bit harder. Yes, he was a foul creature, but he would only be too happy give his dearest baby brother just what he had asked him for. In a way, this would be a perfect ending to an evening full of glorious sin and delightful debauchery, a sweet little dessert after several courses of a rich, hearty meal. Yes, perhaps this would give him the incentive that he needed in order to rest properly, a swift rush of blood to his head and the sweet balm of endorphins, the lingering satisfaction of having soiled his little brother's pristine, pale skin. Oh. Oh, yes. Mycroft shuddered deliciously as he pressed his palm down on his erection firmly, grinding upward into his own touch slightly.

He let his fingers brush the robe aside, let them trace over the silken flesh of the head of his cock, already fully exposed and leaking. Mycroft glanced down at himself, catching sight of his stiff prick pointing almost directly at the hollow of Sherlock's coccyx, at the firm and lush globes of his little brother's naked arse. He must have sensed something, felt a change in his breath, perhaps, for he leant forward ever-so-slightly, subtly exposing himself to his brother's heated gaze even further. Oh. Mycroft decided to take the invitation - how could he not - but he did not allow his brother to tempt him into quite that degree of wickedness. No, not just yet. No, he uncapped the bottle instead, drizzling a meagre amount of lube onto his exposed prick. Not too much, not too slick - not for what he intended. No, if he overindulged, it would be far too easy to take his explorations to a frighteningly higher plane.

When it was just slick enough that he could glide his palm over his erection gently, he drew the robe aside further and pressed even closer to his brother's body, letting his damp prick slide into that hollow, angling it so that it slid - down. Sherlock stiffened with delight as he wrapped one arm around him, his breath immediately quickening as Mycroft rutted against him, quite slowly and quite deliberately. He placed his free hand on his brother's hip, his grip slightly sticky, but very firm. He held his little brother in place and rubbed his cock in between his arse-cheeks, his fingers digging hard into ribs and sharp hipbone, mouthing lightly at the nape of that beautiful neck. Sherlock's body shuddered violently against him, but he obediently kept both his body and mouth as still as he could, allowing Mycroft full access to do whatever he wished.

"Oh, brother dear, brother mine..." Mycroft continued to roll his hips gently, feeling his arousal as something frighteningly huge inside him, but strangely warm and comforting as well, something oh so very  _right_. "How does my prick feel between your cheeks, hm? John praised it earlier in the evening, you know, called it beautiful. Just like me. Such a sweet mouth the good doctor has on him." He felt a brief tremor of laughter in Sherlock's belly, and smiled along with him. "Does it bother you, my dear - that he was able to lay his hands and mouth on my cock before you could? Even this, me rubbing off on you - it's not enough, is it? You're just dying to get your hands on me, measure my length and width with fingers and tongue, catalogue all of the textures and tastes. Oh, I know you, brother dear. I know just how much of a torment this is for you. And yet..." Mycroft grunted quietly as he thrust a little harder. "Oh, sweet mercy... And yet, your mind is at peace, is it not? Because you truly are willing and even eager to let me simply take what I might need from you."

Sherlock's breath hitched deep in his chest almost unbearably, and for a brief moment Mycroft feared that he may have induced some sort of panic attack. But no, he regained control after a few seconds and took in steady breaths until the colour had returned to his cheeks. "Anything. Yes, brother mine, you can take anything from me that you desire. I _swear_ it."

Mycroft snarled suddenly, shifting his grip around his torso to the back of his brother's neck, swiftly shoving him down, pushing his chest into the floor. He leant over him briefly, growling quietly. "I told you to be  _quiet_ , little one." Sherlock whimpered as Mycroft pulled away, still holding him firm to the floor with a hand flat on his back. He leant back slightly to take in the sight of his baby brother's arse being held up for him, held open, glistening faintly in the half-light with the remnants of the lube that his prick had left behind. He shuddered delightfully, contemplating the possibilities. He could, he knew that he could - he knew that Sherlock would not only let him, but eagerly impale himself, even without being prepared properly. He would take any level of pain or discomfort that he chose to deliver.

But no. That wasn't the precedent that Mycroft wanted to establish. He wanted to take him, yes, in a manner that he had never wanted to take another man before. But not like that - not rough or uncaring. No, the first time they did that together, it would be under his Master's watchful eye, it would be easy and loving and carefree. He ran his fingers over one arse-cheek gently, taking himself in hand and giving his cock a good few hard pulls. He stared fixedly at the little pink bud of his brother's arsehole and imagined how it would taste, how it would feel around his fingers, how it might suck him in as he sank in balls-deep. How hot he would be wrapped all around him, the pulse of his heartbeat caressing his cock, how wide his quicksilver eyes would go as he looked up at him helplessly, thrashing under his swift, hard thrusts, oh God yes...

Mycroft grunted incoherently and bent over Sherlock's prostrated form, letting his release fly over the expanse of pale, porcelain skin. He smiled to himself as his ejaculate striped that lush arse, over the small of his back and up even further, as he continued to let his hand stroke himself until there was absolutely nothing left, until he was shaking the last thick pearly strand onto one cheek, reaching out to wipe it down his spine. His baby brother shook and shuddered underneath him, biting his lip hard to hold back on his cries, and Mycroft was not at all surprised to see that he had wriggled one hand in between the floor and his groin, and had no doubt taken himself in hand again as well.

He chuckled low as Sherlock's body began to quiet itself, only the odd tremor here and there as he panted out harsh breaths. "Dirty little boy."

Sherlock threw a blistering glare over his shoulder, but his expression softened when he saw his brother looking down at him with unmistakeable fondness. He paused and raised one eyebrow, and Mycroft nodded curtly with a small smile. He pushed himself back up on his knees and once again reached for the tissues, taking a couple of them for himself before passing the box back. Mycroft hummed idly and reached for his vest again, carefully using one corner to wipe away the evidence that he had left behind on his little brother's back. Sherlock shuddered with delight as he passed it back, and he held it to his chest as one might a prized possession.

Cautiously, he began to turn around, shuffling somewhat awkwardly on his knees. Mycroft encouraged him wordlessly, reaching up to tuck a wayward curl behind his ear. He stayed as he was, quite ludicrously exposed with his softening member still hanging out from the gap in his robe, letting his brother take him in completely. With a shy glance up at his face and then back down, he tapped his fingers on his knee and started to reach out, pulling away as Mycroft took in a sharp breath. Eyes downcast, he began to turn away, but the elder Holmes quickly captured his hand and gave it a brief squeeze, placing it on his thigh. He gave it a reassuring pat as those quicksilver eyes darted up to his once again. "It's all right, little one. Gently, if you please."

With a nearly blinding grin, so full of child-like wonder that Mycroft's heart clenched in his chest, his brother reached out with one finger to touch him, delicately petting his prick like a small animal, from root to crown and back again. "Mycie - I, I want to taste you."

Mycroft blinked at his breathy voice and reached out to cup his face with a gentle hand. "And you will, Lockie. But not tonight."

Sherlock nuzzled into his palm with half-closed eyes and folded his hands in his lap. "No. Not tonight." His manner shifted suddenly, from child to man, his mouth and eyes sharpening once again into stark maturity. "Come downstairs with me, brother. I shall make tea."

The elder Holmes smiled faintly as he rearranged his robe to cover himself. There was something in his brother's face that he remembered all too clearly from when they had been younger, that need for touch, for affection. Sherlock wanted a snuggle, and he wanted it to be something that they shared alone. He glanced up at the bed, ensuring himself that the two men that he had played with earlier were still very much wrapped up in each other and nodded gently. "I would be honoured to share tea with you, brother mine. Do pull your pants up first, won't you?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg & John view a little footage, and have themselves a celebratory shag...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly just filth. I have no excuse. :)

"Pet?"

John snorted himself into some semblance of consciousness as Greg called out a second time, blinking bleary eyes around the dimly-lit room. From the way he felt, they must have only been asleep for a couple of hours at the most - barely even a decent nap. He sat up slowly, raking his fingers through his hair gently. There was a pillow at the foot of the bed, but no Mycroft. Odd.

Greg stalked his way out of the small toilet and stood by the toy box with his hands on his hips as he scowled fiercely. "Put a collar on him, and the first thing he does is run off. What use is a Pet like that?"

"Calm yourself, my love. You know better than to think that he's run off anywhere. Maybe he just needed a nibble or a drink or something." John swung his legs over the side of the bed and wiggled his toes in preparation to stand. "Find me my pants and we'll go hunt him...down. Strange."

Greg ducked around to the other side of the bed, looking down at the odd assortment of items on the floor. "Could've sworn that box of tissues was on the desk earlier."

"And the lube was quite definitely on the bedside table." John bent down and grabbed at something, holding it up for both of them to inspect.

Greg blinked at the small bundle of fabric. "In't that one of Sherlock's nasty old vests?" 

John blinked back at him and turned his head toward the door, but his lover was one step ahead of him, flinging it open and throwing himself headlong down the stairs. John quickly followed, and they hit the landing more or less together, pushing and shoving and shushing each other with far too much fervour to really be effective in the goal of actually keeping quiet. After taking a moment to calm themselves, they both peeked around the sitting room door.

The Holmes brothers were sprawled out on the sofa, quite thoroughly wrapped up in each other as they snored together, practically in unison. Sherlock was flat on his back with Mycroft tucked up on his side between his legs, his head pillowed on his bare chest. The younger had one leg wrapped around his brother's waist, and the elder had his arm tucked under his brother's torso, his hand clutching at his shoulder firmly. As the two men watched breathlessly, Mycroft nuzzled a little further into his human pillow, and Sherlock's hand automatically came up to pat his brother's head softly.

Greg pulled away first, doing a foolish little dance right there in the corner of the landing as John turned with a barely restrained squeal, mouthing, "Ohmygod OhmyGod OhmyGod," over and over again. The smaller man threw a glance up the stairs, but once again it seemed as though his lover had perhaps read his thoughts, as he was already bounding back up to the attic room. 

He went straight to the wardrobe and pulled out the laptop, holding it over his head as John barrelled into him and went up on his tip-toes to try and grab it from him. When that didn't work, he resorted to poking at his lover's belly, making him giggle in between triumphant but hushed shouts for joy. 

"Together, love, we'll watch it together. C'mon."

Greg climbed up into the bed and propped himself up on the pile of pillows, pulling John in between his spread legs as he relinquished his hold on the laptop and took hold of his lover instead. He hooked his chin over his shoulder as John rewound the footage to the moment that Sherlock poked his head into the room, and Mycroft slid off the bed to greet him. 

John paused it briefly to wriggle with excitement, turning to beam at his lover. "Oh, sweetheart - just look at how confident My is, he's not trying to hide himself at all. And see the way Sherlock is holding back even though he's damn near desperate... They're going to be so good for each other, I can tell."

Greg smiled and pressed a kiss to his temple. "Yes, love, they are. They've both grown so much and I'm very proud." 

John wriggled again as he resumed the video, both of the men watching with keen interest as Sherlock offered to help his brother remove the harness, even going so far as to go down on his knees before him, showing a certain amount of reverence as he unbuckled ankle cuffs and thigh bands. John's ears went a little pink as Sherlock took a bit of liberty with his brother's bellybutton, and Mycroft relayed his own tender obsession with the body part in question.

Greg chuckled at him quietly, but found himself lost in a daydream of his own as the idea of piercings was brought up. Oh yes, shiny little rings in nips and navels, delicate chains connecting them all... How lovely would his Pet and Baby be adorned in nothing but silver, perhaps with bangles on their wrists, their skin decorated with that same indigo dye that Sherlock had surprised him with so long ago... Yes, how beautiful would they be all done up like harem totties, lounging about on silken cushions just waiting for him to take his pleasure from them? Sweet merciful Christ... He found himself liking the idea of both of them taking the initiative to do that themselves, without him having to request it of them. How to convey that, though? Sherlock had been quite correct to point out that the collar meant that Mycroft was officially his property now, and that such liberties may not be taken without permission. Hm.

John moaned quietly and swiftly drew him out of his own head, his imagination serving as quite the distraction. Not that he needed any of the images in his head to re-awaken his libido, because even now the younger brother was pressed quite close to the older, and Mycroft had offered to, to - watch. Sherlock's body was trembling almost uncontrollably, and Greg felt a swift rush of euphoria for his youngest lover, a sense of empathy as he found one of his deepest desires beginning to unravel in front of him. The way Mycroft manipulated his brother's body, the way he held him close, but being quite unable to touch back as he held his hands firmly behind his back, the way he unleashed his tender torment with the lightest of kisses on the skin of his neck -  _oh_.

Yes, John had clearly struck at something fundamental to Mycroft's identity earlier in the evening, and even now Greg could see that his Pet had taken their words to heart. His natural and rather obvious inclination was to top where his little brother was concerned, and even if he was unsure about it, none of that uncertainty was evident in his voice or his actions. Rather, he seemed to be taking a distinct joy in telling his brother what to do, taking clear satisfaction in the way that Sherlock immediately conceded to his desires. And he did, oh yes. Dressing gown and vest were both discarded without a second thought, bottoms and pants shoved down hastily, and then he was on his knees once again, completely exposed to his older brother's cool grey gaze

Greg and John both held their breath as Mycroft settled down on the floor across from his brother, the camera's eye giving them quite the view as Sherlock started to stroke himself lightly. They listened with interest as he was interrogated, as he dismissed his older brother's explanation before it was even offered, knowing that neither one of them had really had a choice in the matter all those years ago, but not hesitating to reveal just how deeply he had been wounded. Mycroft's shoulders dropped in defeat and Sherlock's fingers slowed in their rhythm, eventually coming to a halt as his gaze turned inward. 

"Hm." John sighed heavily. "Figures that he'd go all Mind Palace in the middle of a wank." 

Greg chuckled quietly as Mycroft rose to his feet and rummaged in the wardrobe briefly. He settled back down behind his brother, setting a small bundle to the side before laying hands on his pale skin, gently rousing him back into awareness and setting his hand in motion again with little more than his words and the lightest of touches on his neck and head. He demanded answers and he got them, not that he hadn't already known what his little brother was telling him anyway. No, of course he had known exactly how to set Sherlock off, as he held his vest to his nose and smiled smugly as his scent triggered an instant orgasm.

John moaned quietly as their youngest lover's cock jumped in his own hand, his brother holding him close as he made quite the mess of himself. Greg bit his lip and tried not to grind up into the backside that was pressed to him, but of course John knew exactly what he was feeling because he was feeling it himself, and he wriggled against him provocatively. "Not yet, love. There's more to see." A quiet groan was the only response. Well, that, and another maddening wriggle, of course. "Tart." 

A cheeky giggle followed his terse comment, but then the men seemed to freeze in place as Sherlock offered Mycroft literally anything, and his brother responded with a ferocity that frankly surprised the hell out of both of them. It wasn't just the role reversal that was daunting Mycroft, it was the depth of his own feelings, the knowledge that it could easily go too far too quickly and that someone might get hurt. It was his need to temper his control with his Master's grounding influence as well as the quite understandable reluctance to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh with his baby brother. It was so many things, all coming to a head as Mycroft paused, as he let his brother's offer tempt him, as he let that resistance fade, just a little.

John gasped quietly as Mycroft shifted slightly, as he lifted his hand and began to stroke his little brother's body quite deliberately. 

Greg groaned behind him, and this time he couldn't help from grinding into his lover, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him in closer as he mouthed at the scar on his shoulder and up around to the back of his neck. John hissed and writhed, his eyes not leaving the small screen for one tiny moment.

_'Do not move, and do not speak, brother mine.'_

"Oh, good _God_ , he's going to do it Greg, he's going to rub one out on Sherlock's back oh  _Jeezus_..." Greg's only response was another low moan, quickly followed by a quiet growl. They couldn't really see what Mycroft was doing, they could only see their faces, could see Sherlock's cock beginning to twitch with renewed awareness. But then the elder Holmes shifted closer, and they could see that one arm was wrapped around Sherlock's lanky torso and the other one holding tight to his hip, but he was moving, he was thrusting, oh yes he was, and Greg dropped his forehead into John's shoulder, his vision gone pure white for just a moment. "Oh Jesus oh Christ, oh he's rutting between his cheeks isn't he just the  _filthiest_  little kitten..."

_"Nghk."_  John almost laughed at Greg's incoherence, but then Mycroft was leaning into Sherlock's ear, and he turned the audio up as high as it would go, but he couldn't quite make out what was being said. Sherlock made some comment, and Greg pulled out of the shelter of his shoulder to watch as Mycroft turned ever-so-slightly vicious, shoving his brother's face down into the carpeting and hissing at him to be silent. 

Sherlock's hand wormed its way under his body as his brother held him down, and the men on the bed panted out harsh breaths at the look of sheer greed and hunger on Mycroft's face as he looked down at his little brother's arse, held up and ready for him. They stiffened as one as he took himself in hand, jerking his prick in swift hard pulls until he grunted and bent over the body held tense and ready for him, letting his release rain down until there was nothing left, until he had wrung it all out of himself and onto his brother's pale skin. Sherlock was unmistakeably coming again as well, his body reduced to nothing but harsh shudders as he whimpered quietly.

Mycroft chuckled at him and Sherlock tried to be nasty about it, he really did, but he straightened and they saw that his hand was once again messy with come, they both shook their heads disbelievingly at his attitude. Trying to be the sulky younger sibling even after his brother had given him exactly what he had asked for - more, even - how typical, how...Sherlockian. But Mycroft indulged him, as he always did, eschewing the tissues that were proffered and taking up his vest once more, carefully mopping up his mess with one corner before folding it neatly and passing it back to Sherlock as a keepsake. He clutched it to his chest like a security blanket, and both of the men watching felt a tinge of sweetness permeate their almost unbearable arousal as they watched him start to turn, shuffling around on his knees awkwardly. 

The elder Holmes allowed his brother to touch him, and Greg shivered against John as they watched Mycroft's spent prick being subjected to a curious but gentle finger. 

_'Mycie - I, I want to taste you.'_

_'And you will, Lockie. But not tonight.'_

John sucked in a sudden breath, his body held absolutely rigid against Greg's. "Oh my God - that's it." He abruptly shut the laptop and bent over to place it on the floor carefully. He turned in Greg's lap. "That's how it has to happen."

Greg immediately reached out to stroke him, his lust overriding any sense of patience. "What's that?"

John hummed and pressed a little closer, running his fingers through Greg's hair as he ducked down to nibble on his neck and collarbone. "That bit near the end. Mycie and Lockie - and  _Daddy._  That's how their first real fuck will have to be in order for them to really let go. If Daddy's there then he can tell Mycie what to do, don't you see? It's perfect."

"Mm. What about Papa, then?" Greg pulled away slightly, one hand working its way around to John's perfect bum. He sighed as he gave one cheek a solid squeeze. "Maybe we should just schedule it, like tonight."

John shook his head decisively even as he squirmed slightly, his face going nicely pink. "No. Something like that needs to happen a little more organically. There's no pushing or scheduling allowed. If I'm here for it, great. If not... Well, there's always the video."

"John..."

"No. If a situation comes up and Daddy can gently lead them down that path, you do it. Whether I'm with you or not. Don't hold back because I'm not there."

"But something special like that..."

John grinned brightly at Greg's hesitant tone, and reached out to cup his face in both hands. "So many special moments to come, my love. Papa won't miss out."

Greg chuckled quietly even as he pulled him closer, their stiff cocks glancing off of each other as they ground into one another fiercely. John groaned and abruptly pulled away, reaching for the lube and pressing the bottle into Greg's hand. He deliberately turned his back to him and went up on hand and knees, shaking his arse at him impatiently. His lover tilted his head with a wicked grin, ridiculously pleased to see that it was still a bit red and puffy from his spanking earlier in the evening. 

"That's quite the gorgeous view, my love."

John snorted and wriggled again before going down on his elbows. "Fuck me, Gregory. Use me like your beautiful little pet, like your sweet little whore. I want to feel you claim me."

No second invitation was required, as Greg scrambled to his knees behind him, uncapping the bottle and slicking himself up before drizzling a generous amount in between the globes of that perfect arse. John yelped quietly at the cold, but hummed with delight as Greg took hold of the base of his prick and slid it up and down a few times, the crown catching on the rim of his hole, still a bit loose from earlier. Not too loose, though, not as he felt Greg shift slightly behind him, as he felt that blunt head start to push in, oh yes. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as that magnificent cock breached him, filling him completely.

His head dropped to the mattress as he stretched his arms out, bracing against the foot-board of the bed. Greg grunted behind him, rocking his hips with the barest of motions, seating himself in his tight heat, just feeling John clench down around him. John's breath caught in his chest, and he pushed back, his eyes watering slightly at the faint burn deep within. Greg slid out about halfway, and John could tell from the way he was holding his cheeks open that he was watching his cock as it was swallowed up by his arse. There was a deep noise of appreciation and another slow and gentle thrust, nearly all the way out this time before sliding back in smoothly.

"Fucking beautiful. God, I wish I had you all lined up in front of me so I could watch myself sink into each of you, one at a time."

John snorted, even as a heady rush of heat cascaded through his body at the thought. "What would that be, then? Some kind of automated fucking production line? A steady stream of arseholes to violate?"

Greg chuckled and gave one cheek a healthy smack, grinning at the high yelp that forced its way out of John's throat. "That and mouths, yeah. Fucking and sucking all the way down the line, unloading into the last hole that was lucky enough to get it." 

"Jeezus, love." John's head dropped to the mattress again, and he pushed back into his lover hard. "I want..."

Greg's grip on him shifted suddenly, and he withdrew before snapping his hips viciously, driving the breath and the voice right out of the man underneath him. "Yeah, I know what you want, you filthy little tart. So shut up and take it." 

_"Yessss..."_

Greg laughed wickedly before he bent over slightly, fisting his hand in the hair at the back of John's hair and pulling back viciously. The smaller man let out another high-pitched shout, but he also growled in approval before shifting his grip on the foot-board and dipping his spine, sticking his arse up even higher for Greg to plunder. He encouraged his lover to take his pleasure from him in the most animalistic way that he could, squealing and moaning with every solid thrust, letting his body get jolted fiercely as Greg drove into him steadily.

His hips didn't falter in their motion even as he bent further, releasing John's hair in favour of clamping his hand down over his mouth, slipping his two middle fingers in as his victim panted hot breath over his palm. "Suck, whore." John moaned low in his chest and obeyed, laving his tongue over the digits as he closed his lips around them, his eyes rolling back as his body was assaulted. "That's right. Jesus, sometimes I think you're just as submissive as my sweet Pet. Love it when I tell you what to do, don't you?" There was another low moan and quiet whine as John tried to nod, rolling his eyes toward his lover in desperation. "Yeah.  _Ngh_ , oh Christ. Love it when I fuck this gorgeous arse of yours, love it when I force my prick in your sweet little mouth and down your throat. You love to be  _used_ , don't you, tart? Next time - oh, next time I'm gonna make you service Pet, reward him for being so good to his baby brother. Yes, get that mouth of yours around his cock and then I'll sink in so deep, but then I'm not gonna move, oh no. I'll make you fuck yourself on me as you're sucking him off and you better do a good job, whore. Get both of us off at the same time, and maybe I'd let you get off too." John whined, the muscles in his arms trembling as sweat rolled down the channel in between his shoulder blades. Greg growled and licked it up, bestowing a swift but vicious bite on the nape of his neck. "Or - oh fuck,  _yes_ \- maybe I'll make you suck on both of them. Both Pet and Baby, oh fuck me how glorious would that be? Having them both laid out before us, you working one with your mouth and the other with your hand until I made you switch, both of them spraying you with their come oh Jesus fucking  _Christ_..."

John squealed again and pushed at Greg's fingers with his tongue, trying his damnedest to push back into his lover's swift thrusts, to gain leverage somehow, but he was buried too deep, thrusting too hard. Greg growled again and abruptly wrapped one arm around his torso, pulling John back onto his lap as he settled down on his heels. His momentum hardly shifted at all, and his other hand was suddenly around John's cock, his own thrusts shoving it through the circle of his fingers, and the smaller man clutched at his forearm and reached over his head with his free hand, his fingers tangling in Greg's silver hair as teeth clamped down on his neck. He came quite suddenly with a high, sharp shout, his voice petering out into low panting moans as Greg cursed around his mouthful of golden flesh, snapping his hips again and again until he went rigid, pulling John's body down onto him hard as he pulsed deep into him, clutching him tight, tighter.

John went utterly limp in his arms, his head dropping forward as his chest heaved mightily, striving to regain his breath. Greg chuckled through his own harsh gasps, suddenly lifting the inert figure off his lap and tossing him down on his back. He grasped his legs under the knee and pushed up and out, looking down at the wreck of a man lying before him, his sweet little arsehole all red and slick and puffy from the abuse it had just suffered. John grinned up at him weakly and clenched his muscles and  _pushed_ , and Greg sucked in a breath as a flood of come came oozing out of his lover's body.

"Filthy little fucker." John giggled and closed his eyes briefly, humming as Greg shifted closer, his attention completely fixed on the puddle that was forming underneath him. John's eyes suddenly flew open and his back arched involuntarily as Greg shoved his cock back in ruthlessly. He was spent, yes, but still firm, and he angled his hips up high to drag the blunt head across John's prostate over and over again, his teeth showing in a fierce grin as the smaller man thrashed underneath him, his hands clutching tight to the bedclothes. His prick twitched and dribbled with every sure stroke, Greg milking him quite relentlessly, and John whimpered uneasily as his body jerked hard with each new tiny pulse of come.

"Love,  _no_. Please."

Greg hummed quietly and released John's legs, settling down on his elbows above him, still grinding into his body gently. "Wanna bet that I could stay hard enough to keep myself buried in this fine, tight arse of yours? Hm? Slow and soft, just like this - just enough to keep it up until I couldn't stand it any more, until I just had to take you again. God, you'd  _scream_ , wouldn't you? Scream absolute bloody _murder_ and nobody would know, nobody would hear..."

"Greg, please." John took in a breath that caught in his throat, and when he exhaled, it almost sounded like a sob. " _Please_ , love - no."

Greg sighed and withdrew, pushing himself back up on his knees. "Oh, I suppose. Since you begged so nicely and all..."

"Oh thank God." John threw his arms out wide and heaved out a blissful sigh of relief. "Christ, but you're a monster once you get going."

"You love it." Greg hummed quietly as he ran one finger around John's soft cock, gently tweaking his bollocks as they started to relax. John cocked a wary eyebrow at him as he lifted one of his legs, pushing it up so he could gaze on the glory underneath. He poked at his perineum and laughed as John jumped, one hand clamping down on his mouth to hold back on his shout. "Oh, yes, you adore it when I go all sadistic sex-beast on you."

"Sometimes." John bit his lip as Greg's eyes twinkled at him maliciously. "But only very rarely."

_"Liar."_  Greg suddenly tugged on his hands, pulling John upright and wrapping his arms tight around him, snogging him nearly senseless before tossing him down again like a rag-doll. "Stay put, Captain."

" _Asguf_. As if I could move, Gregory." He watched his lover retreat to the bathroom and listened to the sound of running water, and although he could swear that he didn't even blink, it was only a few seconds later that Greg jostled him into wakefulness by wiping away the crusty mess from his nethers. He was bestowed a soft kiss on his forehead and a gentle nudging toward the centre of the bed to remove himself from the wet spot, and then Greg disappeared again, only to wake him once more as he crawled into the bed at his back and curled himself around him protectively. And then he was simply gone, plummeting into blissful darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is my first completed work! Woot! 
> 
> I do hope that everybody enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it, and there is so much more to come in my dirty little world, so please stick around... ;-p

**Author's Note:**

> Brit-picked by the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen - thank you, dearie! :)
> 
> I also wanted to add that I do have a tumblr. I don't think I'll be posting any teasers or anything like that, but I will be tossing out notifications, since it seems that AO3 hasn't been informing a few of my loyal readers. You can find me at 'bitemebat.tumblr.com' if you'd like.


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